


Three's Company

by BlueHedgehog, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I dread the day we actually sit down to tag this thing, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12499100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHedgehog/pseuds/BlueHedgehog, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: We stumbled over this lovely little thing, and things got a bit out of hand.  Chapters are -not- in a chronological order, nor are they supposed to be."So instead of being driven by a desire for vengeance, Ardyn just sort of breaks, goes crazy in an entirely different direction and spends the several centuries wandering around as a crazy homeless man until mental institutions become a thing, he gets institutionalized in Niflheim and instantly becomes the subject of early scientific scrutiny until a mad military scientist gets the brilliant idea to use him to turn people into scourge-based weapons.Lucis, fearing Nifleheim's new weapons, sends Cor to investigate these new weapons and he ends up coming back with a mentally ill immortal and a baby, and yes he's keeping them."





	1. Monsters

Prompto was four years old, and screaming at the top of his lungs. It was two in the morning, and until about a minute ago, everything had been fine. The kid had gotten somewhat used to being a _kid_ , and more recently to having his own room. Sometimes, though, _this_ still happened.

Cor was on his feet in seconds, was in the living room, gun in hand, some seconds after, before his brain parsed that it _was_ monsters that lurked in the dark, but the very special species that only appeared in dark spaces like wardrobes and under beds of kids' rooms. The screams gave way to loud wailing, and there could have been be words in between, but they were lost somewhere between sobs and the kid's still somewhat limited speech.

"Coming, coming..." Not before putting the pistol to a safe place though. The little bird had a thing for everything that went "pew" and produced fireworks, and he didn't want an accident.  
  
The sound came from the space between the foot of the bed and the closet. It was just large enough to fit Prompto and his chocobo plush, the first toy he had gotten. You needed a crowbar to separate him from it in the night. The nightlight, a fat little moogle, didn't seem bright enough for a moment like this, so Cor switched on the bedside lamp.

"What is it, little one? Bad dreams?" He squatted down to take a look at the boy. He was mostly mussed up blond hair and snot at this point, and as was often the way with small children, too upset to say why he was upset. The crying didn't stop, it just turned into hiccups, half muffled by the chocobo.  
  
"Come here, will you?" He tried to gently pull him out of his hiding place. Prompto screeched, and other than that might as well have been a log. No cooperation at all. At least he wasn't kicking or biting, an improvement from the first few weeks.

"Shit." What was it this time? The bed seemed dry enough. "Don't want to sleep alone tonight?"

That got him a nod, finally.

"You have to come out if you want that. I don't fit in there, you know?"

Prompto looked up at him. Still sobbing, still not saying a word, but slowly inching out of his corner nonetheless.

The Marshal waited patiently. Forcing the boy would only lead to more sobbing, he learned that the hard way. Eventually, he was out far enough to, in theory, hold on to Cor, and far enough for Cor to get both hands on him. He looked unsure, though, and the tears wouldn't stop, and then he just folded himself around the plush again and resumed wailing. One of _those_ spells. They had gone through this a few times.  
  
"The fledgling will not stop, will it?" The wailing had woken his strange roommate, and he stood in the door now in his pyjamas, eyes tiny from sleep. "You'll be waking up the whole house, young man, if you intend to go on like this."

"Must have had a bad dream. C'mon, Prom. Let's fix you some hot milk and go to bed, okay?"

Prompto scrambled forward and past him, and only stopped when he got hold of Ardyn's pyjama leg. Another step up, even if it didn't seem like it at first glance. Two months ago he would have hidden behind it. The boy had taken to Cor, and usually warm milk and a story would have been the cure-all. There was just one specific set of nightmares it didn't work with.  
  
"Aw, poor fledgling. Were the black things looking for you again?" Ardyn lifted the boy up on his arm. He was still crying, but quieter now, sniffling into Ardyn's shoulder. Somewhere in between, there was a muffled, "Uh-hu."  
  
"Then we will take care that they don't dare to come back tonight. Would you mind to help Papa to make me some cocoa while I take care that they will be gone from your bed when you sleep here again?"

Some more sniffling, and then a small nod. He turned his head away from the shoulder a little, and peaked past the chocobo in his arm at Cor.  
  
"You'll of course have to keep really good watch on the milk. Remember the last time you did not and it became too hot and everything was a terrible mess?" He carried him out into the kitchen, placing him on the countertop. Cor followed them, just happy that none of them was crying. Prompto nodded, but he didn't let go of Ardyn's sleeve.  
  
“You remember what happened the last time I told the black ones that they are not welcome here? They are no nice people.“

Cor remembered very well. Ardyn had ended up in his own bedroom, to tend his wounds and still his tears while the kid was back to sleep. Cor was not sure what Ardyn had done in there, but the flat felt more silent after that night.  
  
"They're mean." The boy still stumbled over his r's and th's. He pulled insistently on the sleeve again, trying to get Ardyn to lean down.

“Yes, they are. That is why you scream as loud as you can when they bully Cor and you. Can you do this for me?“ He did not try to detach the tiny hand from his sleeve.  
  
"Mhm!" He looked at Cor, then up at Ardyn again. This time he was much clearer on what the sleeve pulling was all about, bringing his other hand to the side of his mouth. Secrets, then, and those clearly needed to be whispered. Ardyn nodded meaningfully in Cor's direction, then dragged the boy closer to listen to _very important things_.  
  
"Make the ugly man go away, too." Who the ugly man was, nobody really knew. It was either someone specific from the facility, or - more likely - fuzzy memories of people and discomfort getting conflated into one big bad that kept returning in his dreams.  
  
"He won't dare to come here. He's a big old scaredy cat. Remember the spooky face I showed you? Tongue out as far as you can, roll your eyes and make the noises! Like this!" And Ardyn showed him again. Cor hid behind the door of the fridge, unable to look at the man without laughing, and pretended to look for something that was hidden deep in its insides. "See? Even Papa is scared!"

Prompto giggled, and made the same silly face, just to be sure.  
  
"Very _good_! Looky there, the most horrible monster of them all! Spooky enough to scare them all away!" He bopped the freckled nose.  
  
That got even more giggling out of the boy. His face was still puffy and sticky, but he didn't look like he'd start crying again in the immediate future.  
  
Cor dared to bring the milk now, lighted the gas stove and put a pot on it. While Ardyn was telling the boy what Papa was doing there and why it was important to do that very carefully, he looked at his saviour, amber eyes full of a strange melancholia. Prompto meanwhile listened to Ardyn and watched Cor, squinting at the pot on the stove. The fact that he wasn't chatting away about everything that went through his little head spoke volumes about how scared he had been and how tired he was now. "Think you can stay here for a little while, fledgling?"

He nodded and, a little reluctantly, let go off Ardyn's sleeve.

"Do you want honey or cocoa, Prom?" Cor took over from here while he watched the older man walk away, into the boy's room. Ardyn had asked him not to wonder what her was doing in there, and to ignore any noises that might come from inside. It would be _alright_ in the end.  
  
"Honey." Prompto had both arms around his chocobo again.


	2. Dog

“I don't think you can keep her. Look, she must belong to somebody.“ Cor took a deep breath and steeled for the flood of tears that was bound to come.

“But... but... we can't put her back on the street! She's hurt.” Prompto held on to the puppy, gentle for a nine-year-old. “Look!”

“That she is.“ Uncle Ardyn stared at her in utter distrust. Usually he liked dogs, but something about this puppy seemed to rub him the wrong way.  
  
Prompto looked up at him. “She... can stay in my room? You won't even have to see her. Just until she's all healed up?”

Cor sighed. “We will take pictures of her and make leaflets. Until then, she can stay. If it's alright for your uncle.“

The boy's puppy eyes were almost better than the real deal. He looked at Ardyn. “Please?”

The uncle was too busy to notice, carefully holding a finger into her direction. Very slowly, like a knight testing the potential wrath of a sleeping dragon with his sword. The puppy eyed the slow-moving hand, sniffed at it and started wagging her tail. His critical gaze intensified.

“She reminds me of someone,” he finally stated.

“Have you met her in the park with her owner?”

“No. It is not someone I know yet.” He petted her head gingerly, like she was more cactuar than dog. “But it will be inevitable, so she may as well stay for a while.”  
  
“Yes!” He was too used to his uncle's cryptic talk to pay it any mind. “Okay. She's patched up, so I'll get her some food, and some water, and maybe a blanket in my room and...” He deflated a little. “Then I'll take pictures for the leaflets.” He sighed and peered up at Cor. “Because somebody sure misses her.”

“First things first, Prom. Go and get her some food, and why don't you get us something for dinner while you're at it. Something spicy would be nice.” Cor handed him some bills, not really caring for the sum. He wanted to get the boy out before Ardyn couldn't hold it together anymore. He saw the older man trembling, steadying himself on the countertop.

Prompto looked from one adult to the other, and finally caught on. “Yeah. I'll be back later! Bye!” And out the door he went. Better not to be around for this.  
  
Ardyn managed to wait until the boy was gone before he escaped to the bathroom, not locking the door this time. Cor gave him a few minutes before he came after him with glass of water. He sat in the empty tub, arms wrapped around his knees, but at least looking up when the marshal entered and sat down on the floor next to him.

“Hey.” He offered him the glass, but Ardyn shook his head. “Want to tell me what upset you?”

“Death.”

“You know it is a puppy. And that you could have said _no_.”

“She is bound to my demise, but it's not her fault.” Black tears ran down his cheeks, and Cor tried to pat them away with some toilet paper. The first times this happened it scared him half to death. “She smells like death and snow.”

“She'll only be here for a few days, I'm sure.” Cor himself hoped so. Not because of strange premonitions, but because none of them had time or nerves for a dog.

“I don't want to die...” Black oil now not only streamed from his eyes, but from Ardyn's skin, pooling around him lazily on the white porcelain. It had been quite a while since a spell was that bad.

 ***

“I'm home!” Prompto called from the door, giving the grown-ups a good warning ahead before he made his way to the kitchen. He had brought enough dog food to last the week for the puppy, ready-made bowls of curry for themselves, and some brightly colored sweets for his uncle. Maybe those would cheer him up a bit.  
  
Cor was in the kitchen, doing dishes, the puppy taking a nap on the couch. Music was softly playing on the radio, and he was humming along. It was rather peaceful. Prom unpacked the food, put some of the dog food on a small plate and set it on the kitchen floor.

“How's uncle Ardyn?”

“Trying to take a nap. He's sorry if he scared you. Said it was just one of those days.” Cor got them two plates, filling them with food. “But he said Tiny may stay until she decides to leave.”

That was not all he said. Ardyn was very sure she puppy _would not leave_ before she had done what she was sent to do, whatever that might be, and fighting it would only make it harder for the boy, and he did not want that.

“It's okay, he was probably more scared than I was.” He went to pluck the puppy off the sofa, and sat her down in front of the bowl. The food he bought seemed to be fine, and after a proper sniffing, she dug in.  
  
The Marshal took a deep breath, watched both puppies. “Want to take pictures of her anyway, even if it's not for a mugshot? They grow up so fast.” Tiny wagged her tail, and it seemed like she agreed happily.

***

One day, the dog was gone. Everybody was sure not to have left the door open, and uncle Ardyn had an alibi, even one with witnesses. Real ones. He seemed weirdly proud of that. Prompto did his best not to cry. Camped outside the door with a bowl of food and treats, even though he had already done that hours before. Didn't really feel like dinner that day. Tried the whole procedure again after school on the day after that.

No puppy to be found.

That went for a few days. Sometimes the adults sat with him, eating dinner on the doorstep. Cor was close to getting the boy a new puppy, just to see him smile again. That was when the letter arrived. Neat handwriting on expensive paper, some perfume still lingering.

_Dear Prompto..._

He read, and read again, and then said, “Can we make muffins? I need them tomorrow.”  
  
“Muffins? Ask the old sweettooth, not me. But why muffins?“ Cor pointed at the letter, but didn't try to read it.

“It's from Tiny's owner, and she says thank you, and she thinks I'm friends with someone in my school, but I'm not. Not yet, because now I have to make friends with him, because she's so happy about me being his friend, because he doesn't really have any.” Prompto took a deep breath. “Plus he's really cool, and I want to make muffins.”

The correlation between _cool_ and _muffins_ went over Cor's head, and so did the content of this letter. “So you told this boy at your school about Tiny, and he told her...?“

“No, I didn't. I guess Tiny ran home when she was better. And he's at the same school and the same age, and I... um. It's an easy mistake to make?”

Cor looked at the boy's beaming face and decided to think this through first. There was certainly a reasonable explanation for all of this. “Get your jacket, then. We need to get groceries anyway.“  
  
And so Prom did. “I didn't want to say it when we were home, because uncle gets really upset when the king is on TV, but the other kid is, um, Prince Noctis.”

“Mh.“ Something was _wrong_ here. Too many lucky accidents. Had he been telling someone at work that there was a dog in the house now? Weskham, maybe Wesk, but things you told him usually stayed buried within those well-dressed depths.

“Then we probably should get things for something with chocolate. Noct loves the stuff.“

“Me, too.” Prompto wasn't a big kid, not by any means, but all angles his body could have had where neatly cushioned by his love for sweets and the steady supply of them, courtesy of Ardyn. “There's always someone around, but he doesn't really talk to them...”

“His dad hoped that would be better in school, when he's with other kids.“ Apparently it was not. “Did the lady who wrote you have a name?“

“Yup.”

“But it's a secret?” Wasn't the kid too young for this? When he was in that age, Cor was into... oh well. Some early formed habits were kept well into adulthood.

“Yup,“ Prompto replied again, this time with a grin. Maybe really a bit of a crush, or he just liked the idea of having a secret that was all his own.

 


	3. Assault

Prompto was seventeen, and it was not his best day.

Usually, he felt relatively safe walking through the city alone at night. He was a guy, not all that short, and very much able to fight if necessary, thanks to training with professionals since he was twelve. Cor, first, very insistent that he needed to learn how to defend himself, then occasionally Gladio, if that got Noct to attend his own practice. Somewhere in between, he had found that he liked it. It was great that all his energy had a place to _go_ , and losing the pudge he'd had before was a nice side effect. He simply didn't seem to be able to bulk up, not in the way that Ignis did - he wouldn't even start comparing himself to Gladio - but he _did_ look the part, wiry and fairly wide set in the shoulders. He was pretty sure he didn't look like an easy victim.

The two men in front of him didn't care. One of them was aiming a gun at him. "Your wallet," was all he said, pointing the barrel at Prompto's pocket. "Okay," was all Prompto said, because he liked being alive a lot more than his money, and no matter how fast he was, a bullet was faster. He kept his hands where they could see them, and slowly reached for his wallet.

Patience wasn't among their strong traits. The other one, a brawny guy with a knife in his hand, stepped up to him. Took the wallet and leafed through it. Gun Guy looked to the side, to see just how much they had just made - as far as money went, some coins and a credit card. Other than that a few other documents with Prompto's name on them. Those seemed to be interesting. "Now look at that..."

"Mh?"

"Seems we caught a rare bird here. Leonis, eh?"

"So?"

"Fuck, man, don't you watch the news? Leonis as in 'I'm standing behind the bloody king'-Leonis? That your daddy, little guy?" The knife wandered over Prom's chest.  
  
Without the _gun_ Prompto would have tried his luck, because this looked like there was going to be trouble, no matter what he did. Alas, the gun was there, and he stuck with careful cooperation for the moment. "Yeah." He didn't ask them what they wanted. They were very clearly going to tell him.  
  
"So?" Gun guy wasn't in on the plan, whatever the plan was.

"We take him along. Send a letter. Get fucking _rich_."  
  
***

Uncle Ardyn had decided to take a walk. It was a rather good walk. It had been a rainy day, and on rainy days the streets were empty, and he liked the calming noise of raindrops on the concrete. He'd had some cake and a rather enjoyable meeting with a duck in the park, and they'd shared a hot dog and enjoyed the weather. It was dark when the rain stopped, and he walked home rather content, whistling a little tune.

"You sure about this?"

The voice came from a side street not even a minute from home, and it was followed up by Prompto saying, "Look, guys..."

"Nobody asked you!"  
  
Usually, Ardyn was the first one to simply change the lane. _Stay out of trouble_. But this had been the fledgling, hadn't it?

"Nobody ever asks me. I am quite used to that." A golden voice stating that fact quite amiably. Somebody ambled into the little alley. An umbrella clacking on the ground with every second step.

"Piss off, buddy. That's none of your business!" Gun guy was wise enough not to lose target on Prompto, he had to give him that.

"There seems to be a problem. May I inquire what it is?" Ardyn's voice was giving away his jolly good mood.  
  
_Oh, fuck. This is so going to go wrong._

"Hey, uncle. Um, those two were just about to leave. Right? This was a misunderstanding, and they just realised that they really don't want to be here, and now they're leaving." They wouldn't catch on, but he had to give it a go.  
  
"What?" Gun Guy said.

"Excuse me?" That was his uncle. He had stopped in his tracks, both hands on the handle of the umbrella like an actor in a musical just before he was singing about singing in some weather condition.

"Down on the ground, or the boy gets it!" Knife Guy, getting hectic. Bad thing.

"Shall I follow his friendly plea, fledgling?"  
  
This was bad. This was so, so bad, no matter what he said next. "Your call. I just... really don't want to get stabbed. Or shot."

"These nice gentlemen would not do that..." Not even a blur as he moved. Had he even moved or been standing behind his attacker the whole time, hand around the knife's blade, just to make a point? "...now would they?"

Prom's attacker did the reasonable thing and screamed, dragging the knife out of Ardyn's grip, spilling blood and darkness.  
  
"No," Prompto said, his voice wavering, "because they were just. About. To leave." Chances were it was too late for that. Gun Guy's hands were shaking. That, too, was bad, because the idiot's finger was on the trigger.

Guns were _loud_. Doubly so when a trigger was pulled by accident, at least for the shooter. His aim wasn't too bad, grazing Ardyn's shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. The boy saw his uncle's sad face, saw black and gold and _knew_ to shut his eyes.

Five more shots in rapid succession, then the cracking and crunching of bones. Then screams. Then whimpers. Then _nothing_.  
  
It wasn't the sounds that hit him so hard, even though Prompto could have lived without that memory. It was the _smell_ , blood mixed with something that usually hung only faintly in the air on his uncle's bad days, and that now came on so strong it made him gag. Something a lot like burnt molasses and decay, so familiar, only that he could not connect a memory to it. He only knew that it made him feel _small_ and very, very afraid of the dark. He opened his eyes.  
  
The men were _gone_.

Nothing was left other than his uncle, sitting in a sorry heap on the ground, hugging his own knees and rocking gently. The stench remained. Prompto tried to shut it out, because he had to do something about this before the adrenaline wore off. He reached for his phone, and called Cor.

"How serious is it?" No _hello_. When Prom called while Cor was at work, it always was _serious_ , and after Cor explained a thing or two about a _relative with PTSD_ , taking a private phone call was a-okay.  
  
If the moment of hesitation on Prompto's end hadn't tipped him off already, what he said next definitely did. "We're two streets down from the park. Can't miss us."

"Shit. Fifteen tops." It had been quite a while since this happened the last time. Usually it ended in... less of a mess.  
  
Prompto hung up. "Dad will be here in a bit," he said and sat down next to his uncle. The smell was so strong here that he wanted to run. Instead he reached out to lay a hand on his back and move it in soothing circles.

"I would like to go home," came between heavy breaths that probably were sobs. Suddenly he looked up, eyes still golden, gleaming in the stray rays of a streetlamp. " _They did not hurt you?_ "  
  
"No, they didn't hurt me," Prompto replied. "We can go home if you can get up." It was late, there weren't that many people on the streets. They either got up now, or they waited for Cor, because he was starting to feel the shock, and he didn't want to guide Ardyn anywhere while he was a shivering mess himself.

"I understand." The answer was as hesitant as his try to get up, but he managed, very much a newborn foal trying to stand for the first time. "May I have a hug?"  
  
He wanted to tell Ardyn that it was going to be okay, but he didn't react well to that, sometimes, and Prompto didn't want to risk it. Whatever his idea of the future was, 'okay' wasn't in there, not in the long term. So he just gave him that hug. They'd be home in a moment, and then his dad would be there, too, and they'd sort it all out.


	4. Home

Ardyn was still sitting on the couch reading when it was time to get up for school. Or again. Prompto was an early riser, usually. Officially because of his morning run, and that was mostly true, but also to check if his uncle needed anything before he took off. He was not sure if he really was reading or just staring at the pages, wrapped up in blankets and drinking cocoa. He was always particularly moody in autumn.  “Morning!”

“Probably.“

At least he was talking today, that was something. Good start, really. “Breakfast?”

“Will it be your usual route today?“ He shut the book and got up slowly, still wrapped in his blankets and ambled over to the kitchen, an old-timey statesman on his way to the senate.

Prompto nodded and put on the kettle. “Yeah.” Three miles, through the park and past two stores.

“You could bring something from that precious little bakery behind the park, if it's already open. The one with those ridicolous tiny cream puffs.“

“They should be open when I'm there. Raspberry or chocolate?” Cup of tea and a banana for now, proper breakfast when he got home.  
  
“Raspberry.“ A quick decision this time, but maybe he was having his dreams again, and when he had those, dark foods were a problem, especially when liquid. Prompto vividly remembered an incident when his uncle freaked out over a particularly dark chocolate fountain, leaving restaurant and the whole quarter in a hurry. It had taken hours until they found him again, hiding in a tube on a building site. It was one of the reasons that tea was a lot more common in this household than coffee. “Sure thing. Anything else you need?”

“A sweet little something for Cor, maybe. He'll never admit it, but he does love the cake they have.“

Prompto grinned. “Gotcha.” And off he went. Another half-finished cup of tea standing around in the kitchen now. He kept forgetting those. Ardyn collected the things the boy left standing. Cleaned them. Set the table for three, even though Cor was already at work, but he always set the table for three, and being a creature of habit made things _easier_.

***  
  
“I'm home!”

Prompto kicked off his shoes. He had returned without any unexpected delays, and with the promised sweets. “Arla says hi. Packed some samples for you. Some sort of cherry tart, something very pink, and... I think the other ones are for another time.” Chocolate and blueberry in those. He found Ardyn on the floor in front of the glass door of the balcony, sitting between the rainbows the tired sun painted through the crystals hanging on the ceiling. He was in his bathrobe, the reddish hair wet, and he was drawing. Ink on paper this time, careful little strokes. Prompto smiled. Talking, setting the table, taking a shower, and now drawing - pretty good day, so far. He unpacked the food, and hit the shower.

“I think I would like to go out today.“

They sat at the table, drinking tea and eating scrambled eggs on toast.

Prompto nodded. “My classes finish early, if you don't want to go alone.“

“Ah, I'll just go down to the park. Maybe see if I find somebody to play with.“ There was a small and very dusty café down at the small pond with the ducks where the retirees met for chess and card games and strawberry cake, coffee always hidden under generous amounts of cream. A safe place.

“Cool. Have fun!” If anything came up, he had their numbers. As did the owner of the café, if anything _else_ came up.


	5. Family Reunion I

When Prompto's phone buzzed the tenth time in a row, he decided that it was probably important enough to step out of the movie he was watching. All messages from Noct.

 _> [prom]_  
> _[PROM]_  
_ > [prompto are you home?]_  
_ > [is your UNCLE home???]_  
_ > [its finally happened]_  
> _[my dad has TIME]_  
_ > [you know what that means right??]_  
_ > [of6 hes on his way now]_  
> _[tell me your uncle isnt home]_  
_ > [fuck this ill call you]_  
  
Visitors? Today was not a day for _visitors_. Nobody had told him there would be _visitors_ today, and today was a bad day anyway, and he was in his pajamas only because Cor had promised him something nice when he put them on. Ardyn opened the door nonetheless. Stared.  
Stared at polished shoes. Pinstripes. A legbrace. More pinstripes. A beard and a friendly face.

"Oh no. Not you."

He closed the door. Breathed hard. Opened again, just to make sure he was really there.  
  
Regis Lucis Caelum, current ruler of this city and country, was indeed there, and blinking in mild confusion at the scene unfolding before him. Checked with a side-glance if this was the right place. The sign on the door _did_ say Leonis - it was. "Good afternoon," he said.  
  
"This is probably not the right place." The red-haired mess stared at him with an utter lack of respect. "Well, this is probably the right place, but this is... Tea?"  
  
This had to be the 'other relative' Cor had mentioned a few times - the one he did not talk about unless necessary. He was starting to get a vague idea _why,_ and as he looked at him, a vague memory scratched at the back of his head. Hadn't he himself...? Oh well. He would simply have come back another time, but it had taken him literal years to carve this afternoon out of his schedule. It had been hard enough to convince Clarus that he would be good up here on his own, that it would be really enough to place some of his men outside, and in the end, his shield had agreed to keep things as discreet as possible, for Noct's sake. He smiled. "Yes, please."

"You may sit there." He pointed at a rather comfy looking chair. "And you are here because of your son. Want to see how his friend's home looks like. Reasonable, very reasonable." He busied himself in the kitchen, fixing tea. Staring at the cake. It was _his_ cake, but it had too many nuts, and while he wasn't opposed to nuts, everything had to be in regulation.  
  
"That is indeed why I'm here, yes. Thank you." Regis sat in the designated chair and looked around. It was a decent place, and it looked lived in, in a reassuring dents in the couch cushions, pictures on the walls kind of way. A surprise - not really what he had expected _Cor's_ place to look like - but a pleasant surprise.

"You, of course, are acutely aware he is not feeling well." Ardyn had decided to share this cake, so he brought some slices to the table, together with the tea.

A frown. "I was hoping he'd fare a little better while he is here, at least."

"Oh, he does. Does not even notice himself, and neither does the fledgling but I..." He dipped some of the cake into his mug, "...I see the shadows of his ancestors quite clearly."

Regis' hand stopped on the way to the tea cup, just for a moment. He resumed to pick it up, then took a closer look at his host. There was something about that face that seemed familiar, quite literally so. Couldn't be, though. "Who are you?"

"If you don't know that, I might as well be... John. John is a _nice_ name, don't you think?" Ardyn beamed at the king. Close up, he seemed to be a rather nice person. Worthy of cake.

"It is, and this is some really good tea." He smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm sure my son mentioned your name at some point, but I seem to have forgotten."

"Oh, I'm rather sure he did not. Calls me _uncle_ , like the fledgling does. But what's a name for a boy his age? Nothing more then a name. No stories, and no memories. How pleasant that must be." Moods flew through him today like clouds over the sky on a windy day.  
  
"To be carefree is the privilege of the young and the foolish. Best we can do is let them enjoy it while it lasts." A shadow over the king's smile, just for a moment.

“This may be true for most, but not for all, and not for one that bears the world's fate upon his slender shoulders.“ A part of his cake had fallen into Ardyn's tea, so he looked rather sad.

The shadow grew darker, and the smiled started to fade. "That's not exactly common knowledge."

“Oh yes, I know. Would you like cream with that? I would like some cream.“ Ardyn beamed. He _liked_ having the Lucis Caelum some well deserved bad mood.  
  
Regis took a deep breath. Tea, and cake, and a potentially dangerous secret. "Certainly, if you don't mind," he said. "Then how do you know?" Again, it was the face that made him ask. "What is your part in this?"

Ardyn wandered into the kitchen to get some cream in a spraycan, for the easy fix. “Take a wild guess, Regis.“

Pushing denial out of the way was hard work for most people on their best days, but the boulder Regis had to move was large, and heavy, and not exactly shaped to roll easily. Ardyn could watch the whole process play out on his face. He sprayed a smiley face on the slices of cake and watched the king in delight.

Another deep breath, a little more tea, and staring at the face on his cake, Regis finally cleared his throat. "You look taller in the murals."

“And I gained a few pounds since then, but then you always look like a better version of yourself in official portraits. Would you like a drink? I am quite sure Cor won't mind.“

If there had ever been a moment where a drink had been more appropriate, Regis couldn't remember it. He nodded.  
  
Ardyn brought him a glass with ice and, after a moment of hesitation, the whole bottle of gin. “Cor drinks this on _really bad days_ , and I suppose this counts as one for you? Oh well, I do not blame anyone who is not keen on family visitations.“

"... not as bad as it could be." Still, he poured, and he drank. The prophecy certainly didn't say anything about a man in a bathrobe who looked as tired as Regis felt, or about the young Chosen King hanging out with his 'nephew'. Something wasn't going quite as it was written, and maybe there was a chance in that. There was a number of issues that could be addressed here, a whole lot of questions asked. He summed them up in one.

"So," Regis said, "where do we go from here?"  
  
“We could play something. Chess maybe, or Scrabble. Or we could talk about if it wouldn't be a grand old idea to lock me up somewhere where I can hurt neither you nor your boy.“ Coming from a man in pajamas with bunnies on them, even if they were quite obviously tailored, the latter sounded rather strange.

"I thought about it for a moment, but somehow I get the feeling that locking you up would be a pointless exercise." The king picked up the plate with his slice of cake, and calmly cut a piece off with his fork. "And then there is the curious fact that you had plenty of time and opportunity to hurt Noctis, and yet never harmed a hair on his head."

“Even though he might need a haircut, but who am I to talk.“ Ardyn stuck with tea and cake, and he smiled shyly. “Your boy has done nothing to deserve being part of horrible game _they_ decided to play, and I... I'm so very tired of it.“

"I can only begin to imagine." This was difficult. Not _hard_ as such, if it meant possibly saving his son, but difficult. As his ancestors before him, his whole life had been informed by his duty, and his duty was bound to devotion, to the Crystal, to Bahamut, to the Gods. If he remained faithful, if his family literally gave their life to the cause, the kingdom would be safe.

Only that wasn't true anymore.

It seemed that after more than two millennia, the bargain was finally off. It had only been meant to be upheld until the appearance of the Chosen King. That he was going to die early was a matter of fact he had come to terms with, but it became clearer year by year that in the end, the sacrifice would be for naught - no Wall would keep Niflheim at bay. Neither his kingdom nor his child were safe. This was difficult, and uncomfortable, but then again, the last ten years had been nothing but a chain of difficult and uncomfortable decisions. "What keeps us from laying down the cards and leaving the table?"

“That your boy will have to kill me in the end, because he might be the only way out for me.“ Ardyn seemed to shrink with these words. “And that I fear his sickness is part of the Prophecy, and that _they_ might try to end him if he does not play along.“ Blackness welled up in his eyes, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I'm not ready to die yet. Have hardly lived.“  
  
Regis frowned. "I think we can agree that even if we play by the rules, all of this is meant to happen once Noctis is _king_ , and I plan on delaying that for as long I can. Time we can use to find a way around all of this."

“How I wish you to be right, child, and wise. There is one thing I have to ask of you, though.“

"Which is?"

“Do not blame your Heart. I do not know _if_ he knows by now or if he just prefers not to think about it, but he took me in out of sheer kindness, and he was the first to show such kindness in ages. He bears with me, and I am grateful for it. Not as my Shield, but as my _friend_ , and those are hard to come by.“ The golden eyes were very focused now, shining like coins in the afternoon sun.

"I won't." The king smiled. "One of the few things I can promise, these days."

Ardyn nodded slowly. "I do not envy you, child. Too well do I know your burden."  
  
Being called "child" was more than just a little odd, even if it made sense here. He was just about to reply when there was the staccato sound of a key being too hastily fumbled into a lock, and the door opened. "I'm home! Uncle Ardyn?" There was a slightly panicked edge to the voice that the boy wasn't good at disguising.  
  
"Ah, fledgling. Fancy meeting you here. Would you mind a round of Rummy with two old men? It is rather boring if only we play."  
Prom knew that air of seriousness that hung over them only too well from _grown-up-talks_ , but there was at least no bloodshed, only cake.  
Nobody was in chains or threatening anyone with anything sharp or _black,_ either. A short glance out of the window - no flying garulas. Noct owed him lunch.

"Sure," he said with a relieved smile. "I'll... just take my stuff back to my room first."

"Do that. And hang the laundry while you're at it, will you?"

They waited patiently until they heard the door to the boy's room.

"You wanted to say something, child."

"Only that the chance to turn the tide, as small as it may be, lifts that burden a little. Now, just to clarify," Regis said, "I would be correct in saying that everyone involved in this - everyone who is not a God - simply wants to live a normal, dignified life with a somewhat respectable mortal life span?"

"I think this is what I want, indeed," his ancestor answered after short silence. "I'd be willing to help, even. Might have to."

"I agree. Any plan with any chance of success would hinge on your cooperation, at the very least." The king thought for a moment, his eyebrows slowly knitting together in a frown. "And on Noctis being aware of it."

"And him being willing. I thought about _forcing_ him, but... there is cake, and puppies, and the fledgling, and..." Ardyn's voice broke.

"I am glad that you found a place to call home." Nothing good could have come of leaving him to his own devices. Neither for the man himself, nor for Noct, or Lucis, or the world at large.  
  
"I am very aware that this is what keeps me here, child, and I try my hardest to let it." Some of Cor's gin ended up in his empty mug. His hands shivered. "The young oracle. You may not allow she follows my path."

"How so?"  
  
Ardyn emptied his cup. Put it on the table. Started pouring tea. "This is her taking the pain of strangers, like I used to do. Taking their darkness." He kept on pouring. "Things are good for quite a while. She'll bear it. Get used to it. Won't hurt that much anymore. You can keep smiling." And he kept pouring.

The mug spilled over, dark tea running over the table, dripping down on the carpet. "This is me."  
  
"I see," Regis said. After a moment of thought, he added, "On the long run we will need her support, too. I don't think she would knowingly work against a plan that leads to less bloodshed. Then again, I haven't seen the girl since she was twelve. It _does_ defy divine will, and she _is_ the oracle."

“Doing what she does isn't exactly the best for your sanity.“ Ardyn's grin had more than a tinge of desperation, and he only now noticed that his little demonstration might leave stains on the carpet, so he went to get towels.  
  
"So we have not only Noctis and you to save, but Lunafreya as well." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And there is a deadline, so to speak - we need to act before the girl loses it and sets events into motion that we cannot stop." Like waking the Gods. That would be a problem.

"She might be reasoned with, if she is alone. You know how to play Rummy, don't you?" A slight nod into the direction the boy had disappeared in, and a door opening.  
  
Regis nodded. "I do."

"I can take a little longer with the laundry," Prompto said, with an awkward smile and both eyebrows raised, pointing a thumb over his shoulder back out of the room. "If that helps."

"Will you stay for dinner, Regis? That would be nice. It has been a while since we had a guest."

"With pleasure. I haven't really had the chance yet to see the rest of the family, have I?"

“Then I shall make a dinner fit for a king. Fledgling? Grab a pen and join us for a while, I have a list to make!“

Prompto rolled his eyes - he was sixteen, it happened automatically - and turned to grab that pen and paper.  
  
“So. I will need...“ He dictated a whole lot of things, and after he was half through his order, Prom knew what it would be: _homemade ramen_. In uncle's world, serving someone a bowl of that stuff was close to a confession of love. His Majesty must have done something really right.

So that had gone a lot better than expected, and he was getting ramen night out of it, too. _Sweet_. The only question that remained was how dinner would go once his dad came back home. He should probably give him a warning that yes, Ardyn was home. Prompto simply assumed that Cor knew where the king was. The minute he went out to get the ingredients, he wrote a text,

_[guest f dinner, all ok, uncle makes ramen] <  
_

That should about cover it.  
  
"Do you have preferences for dessert, Regis?"

Prom's phone vibrated. > _[Surprising.]_

_[a freakin miracle. need anything from the store?] <  
_

"I think you can never go wrong with ice cream."

> _[May need a drink.]_

"Oh, I do think you can go quite wrong with ice, but never with chocolate. So, fledgling, you'll bring...," and his list continued. The evening would end in a coma, but one that was caused by food.  
  
_[gin's open] <  
_

Another text before Prompto went back to taking notes, this one to Noct: _[ur dad stays f dinner, u owe me lunch.]_  
  
Cor's reply came in a few seconds later.  
> _[Shit. Have an eye on him. I'm coming.]_

  
The last time uncle Ardyn had been seriously drunk had been years ago. Prompto had been at a sleepover, and Ardyn had been _worried_ . Dad never told him exactly what happened, but there had been blood and tears, and Dad had been to hospital. With a _few_ drinks and a good mood, uncle was simply excellent company.

_[will do] <  
_

"Okay, right, I think I'm gonna need a truck for that."

"Why don't you get your friend? Should be enough for one more."

It easily would be, and maybe for breakfast.

"Really?" Excitement or annoyance? There was no way to tell. He looked down at his phone again pretty much immediately.

_[u just got invited. (help. ><)] <  
_

_> [am i beesee? Oo]_

“Why not? The whole family gathered. That would be nice, wouldn't it?“ The look that Ardyn threw him gave Regis the very distinct feeling that his ancestor was just _screwing_ with the teenager and enjoying himself immensely.

 _[no ur not ffs]_ <  
_[it's my uncle + ur dad] <_  
_[MY dad? here soon]_ <  
_[get me out or haul ur ass over here] <  
_

Regis had a hard time hiding his grin. The beard helped a little.

_> [are we getting ENGAGED?!]_

“Do you think you can be back in half an hour, fledling? Then I'll start with the dough now.“

"Yeah, sure."

 _[_ 凸(｀△´＋） _] <  
_

“You want to help, Regis? You can sieve the flour. That is a pretty important part.“ Even Prompto noticed this uncle was talking to the _King_ like he was a kid, and that the _King_ was, very patiently, letting him - at least in these four walls. Still, he needed to get out of here _now_. Prompto grabbed his backpack and fled.


	6. Family Reunion II

The young prince joined him in the market when he was almost through with the list. A short hug, then he helped him carry his burden. "This is just the _worst_ , Prom. Like, ever."

"At least there's ramen?" Prompto tried to sound hopeful, but he undermined himself with the groan that followed. "They're _getting along_ , Noct. If your dad and my uncle are besties now..."

Noct shook his head. "Can't be. Won't be. Why should they? He's not... I mean, he hides in his room when I visit. Still does."

"He shared his _cake_ , Noct." The way he said it, his uncle might as well have shared his bed. "He's making _ramen_. And he won't go back to his room when you come in, because he invited you for dinner. This is all sorts of crazy."

"Oooo-kay... What did Dad do? No, no wait, I don't wanna know. Like, really not, because... no." The young prince was visibly shaken.

"Pass the brain bleach." Prompto shuddered.

"Why does the idea sound so... you know... plausible? The fuck? This would be like..." Noctis looked at him, and Prom very much expected to say him _you and me_ , but he _didn't_.

"No fucking way. I'm not even sure Ardyn swings... _any_ way, really. Like, I can't imagine..." He screwed his eyes shut. "Augh. Bleach!"

"There surely is an explanation for this. Dad being nice and all. I mean, he's used to being nice to horrible people, and in comparison, your uncle is rather tame." Noct seemed like he was grasping for straws.  
  
"I'm not even surprised that your _dad_ is being all friendly, that's normal, I just don't understand why my uncle is social all of a sudden. With him. He usually switches the channel when your old man's on TV."

"Yeah..." The young prince's pale skin was painted with a little blush. "Let's just get over with this, okay?"

"Yeah. Fingers crossed they're not too embarrassing."

***

"DAD!"

“If King Walrus wants to make an announcement, you will listen.“ Ardyn managed to keep a straight face while Regis took the chopsticks out of his mouth. Speaking with them stuck between his upper lip and his teeth proved slightly difficult. All of them were full of it. Noodles and ice cream and waffles and, in case of the adults, gin.

Prompto didn't know what to do. His options, as far as he was concerned, were running and spontaneous self-combustion. Noct looked even more mortified, and damn, he had all the good reasons. At least he was relatively safe from having _pictures_ shown around, because by now, he was sure that was going to happen at some point tonight. He wrote a text under the table, _[roof?]_

Noct read, and Noct nodded. "'scuse us?" he mumbled, and the three men just waved them away.

***  
  
"Are you dead? I think I'm dead." Prompto pulled a loose brick out, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes behind it.  
  
“Your uncle gave me _this_. And _winked_ at me.“ From the depths of the pockets of his low hanging trousers, Noct took two cans with a rather happy looking fish swimming in a cocktail glass.

Prompto snorted and giggled. "Never mind the wink, those are heaven sent." He lit a cigarette for both of them. "I'm so not going back down there sober."  
  
Noct cracked the cans open. “Never seen dad like this among strangers. Been years since I've seen him like this, actually.“  
  
"Mine had a few drinks, and he didn't start out sad, so I _guess_ that's sort of normal?" Prompto didn't look all that sure. "He doesn't drink much when I'm around." He took the can from Noct, passed the cigarette. "More normal than what uncle Ardyn's doing, anyway. I don't get it. I really fucking don't."

The young prince leaned against the balustrade that halfheartedly kept those on the roof from falling to their death, smoking, drinking and looking _cool_ the way boys his age thought they did when smoking and drinking. The night sky above them was heavy with clouds and violet from the lights of the city. "Is he really your uncle?"  
  
A long moment of silence from Prompto followed, and was ended by a shrug - the kind that was meant to make things look casual, but never did. "Does Cor look like my father?" Another of those shrugs. "And Ardyn's not related to either of us, technically."

"Blue eyes, and yeah, _kinda_. Enough that I'd never question it if you hadn't told me."

Prompto was quiet for a moment. "Well, I guess now you know. That's okay, I mean, it's you, so..."

"I mean, have you looked at Dad and your uncle side by side?" Noct's voice was unsteady.

"I tried not to, but... yeah. And he's always been super weird about you guys..."

"Shit." He took a long drag and tried not to cough. "You think he...?"  
  
"Is a lost relative?" Prompto thought about that for a moment, then pulled a face, and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Could be. It would explain a few things."

"But _we_ of all people would know of such things, don't you think? Bloodlines and all?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just..." Prompto tapped his foot against the brickwork a few times, sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“And I think Dad _knows_ and is just not _telling_ me and...“ He sniffed. Drank. Sniffed again, very much unwilling to shed tears before his BFF.

The cigarette was plucked from between his fingers, and before Noct knew it, he was in a tight hug.  
  
"Prom, this is..." He had asked him more than once not to do this in public, but this wasn't public, and the lean body against his felt so weird, but in a _good_ way, so he let him. Just this one time.  
  
Prompto knew him well enough. "Nobody's watching, and you're still cool."

Hugs were what he did, mostly because they were the cure-all in their weird little family. If he'd ever have to explain why, he would probably point at Ardyn's disregard for personal space first, and his younger self's virtually non-existent need for it second. At some point, they must have dragged Cor on the bandwagon.

“I am not disturbing the both of you, am I?“ Uncle Ardyn had joined them on the rooftop. He could move so silently when he wanted to, and Prom heard Noct's little scream. “The boys are too drunk to be enjoyable.“

"Nah, it's fine." He let go of his friend, anyway - after flipping the cigarette butt of the building behind his back. "And yeah, we figured, that's why we're up here."

"It would only be polite to offer me a cigarette, fledgling." _He could not have seen that._ "And I brought some more of the fizzy stuff. It claims to taste like strawberry cheesecake, but it does _not_." He sat on the balustrade besides Noct, his bathrobe dancing in the wind like a cape.  
  
"Oh, come on, you could at least pretend you didn't see it?" Prom pouted and threw the pack his way. Noct, meanwhile, looked very much like he just wanted this confusing night to be _over_.  
  
"I _smelled_ it, fledgling." Ardyn caught the pack and lit one. "And I would like to talk to the young prince, if I may. If he wants you at his side is very much his decision."

"Prom stays." Ardyn hadn't even finished the last word.  
  
"As the princeling wishes." He handed them the cans. "Before I even start, _Noctis_ ," he used the name for the very first time, "I need to know how much Regis has told you. If I judge him right, next to nothing?"  
  
Prompto stayed quiet for the moment, just sat close enough to discretely hold on to if something... disturbing happened. It was a possibility. Noct just frowned. "Told me about what?"

"What the burden on your shoulders will bring. And why you are sick all the time." Ardyn's voice was, at least for his ways, rather soft.

"Next to nothing about covers it... I know what everyone else knows, really. Only that I also know that I'm the guy in question." He wasn't even surprised anymore.  
  
“When a man and a woman love each other very much...“ Ardyn started. Looked at there faces. Sighed. “A child is born. Sometimes, very rarely, this child is special. Chosen by the Gods, like its bloodline. You know that much, do you?“

"I know I'm supposed to become the King of Light and fix the Scourge. _How_ wasn't in the manual, though."

“Their idea is very much that you _kill me_.“ He finished the cigarette in one long breath.

"... sorry, _what_?"

Prompto coughed and almost spit out his drink.  
  
“Well, this is the end of it. The very end. Until then, you need to prove your worth to them. To your ancestors. That will probably be no fun at all, but will improve your headache once you started.“ Prompto smelled _it_ again, decay and molasses, just very faintly.  
  
Noctis had turned a little pale, and it was probably a good thing that he was already sitting. Of all possible things there were to say, he chose, "I was sort of wondering how combat training was supposed to help me fix a medical crisis."  
  
“But you see, princeling, I don't want to die. Maybe when you are an old man, as your last act of mercy. And for that, I very much need you _alive._ “ Black veins were pulsing in Ardyn's temples. To focus like this, to speak _this_ truth to _this_ young man, seemed to strain him like nothing since a long time.  
  
"I don't want to... _kill_ anyone. So... uh. We're on the same page there. Just... Why you? What's that supposed to..." He only now noticed the _black_ that was building up in the man in front of him.

“A few mistakes were made when I was around your age.“ A lopsided grin. “Rather stupid _misunderstandings_ that turned into something _really bad_.“  
  
"When exactly--" Noct started, and then his brain backtracked to something Ardyn had said a moment earlier. "What do you mean you need me alive? Is there anything in that... I mean, am I not..."

"You were chosen to destroy the Scourge. You are the only one that can do so." Ardyn's voice had taken a darker, weirder tinge, and his hands were balled into fists, desperately trying to hold back _something_. He was trembling. "And you _need_ to do so. In the end, it is the only way, and I am _so, so sorry_." The smell grew stronger with every breath he took.  
  
Ardyn could see the exact moment that the prince _understood_. The confused frown made room for wide open eyes, and a slowly dropping jaw. He had been pale before, now his lips had gone the same white as the rest of his face.

Prompto only looked marginally better, those were things you didn't want to hear about family or friends, but for the moment his major concerns were the possibility of Noct simply keeling over, or maybe worse, his uncle losing his grip.

"Okay," Noct said - twice, because the first time around nothing but a hoarse squeal came out. "Am I getting this right - the Scourge exists as long as you do, that's why I need to kill you, and it's a given that I'll die doing that."  
  
"That is indeed what _they_ and _their_ prophecy claim. As the unshakable _truth_ of our _battle_." Ardyn stretched out his hand, expecting a cigarette or a drink or Prompto's hand, or all of them. "But princeling, I thought about it for a good long time, and I have reached a decision. Let me use a saying that runs in my _family_ since the first day: _Fuck that shit._ They have lied to me before."  
  
He got the hand, and cigarettes, but only after Prompto had taken another one for himself. This wasn't a half-a-smoke kind of night anymore, not by far. He didn't know _what_ kind of night it was, because it was a first, but he was pretty sure it warranted another cigarette. A whole one. For himself.

Noct was still dumbstruck. "So let's just not do that. Did I mention that bit where I don't fucking want to kill anybody?" He shook his head. "Uh, while the world's upside down anyway, we're related how?"  
  
“We shall see if we can avoid this, Noctis. But you need to be _prepared_.“ The fledling's hand seemed to help to banish the daemons back to where they did not belong. They saw in the glow of the tobacco how the black subsided, how the golden light in the old man's eyes ebbed away. “Very distant, I think,“ he answered after a good time of thinking. “To answer your second question, even though I'm a bit fuzzy on the details.“ He was very much not going to explain those boys that in the good old days morality had been _rather different_ , and he could not tell for sure if there had been a child. Or several.

"I... see," Noct said, and then nothing more. He didn't make any attempts to get up, either, though. Prompto tugged the cigarette behind his ear instead of lighting it, and started writing a text.

"Give the boy a hug, fledgling. He has a lot to think about, and thinking will probably be easier when I am not around. And Noctis?" A short tap on the prince's knee to get his attention. "Your father loves you very much. That is why he wanted to spare you as long as possible. I do not share this sentiment, but the fledgling does, and I think you very much deserve the truth. That is the least I can do for you."  
  
Noct just nodded. Prompto did as well, and put the phone away again. "You're going back inside?"

“I am rather sure some of the dessert is left, and I won't let it go to waste.“ He was almost back to his old self again, happy and as full of sugar as possible. “You've been very brave, fledgling, and I thank you for it.“  
  
When he was gone, Noctis started shivering. It had been too much.  
  
And there was the hug. Prompto held him close. "I messaged Ignis. He'll stay with you at your place if you don't wanna be alone." He was sure that Noct wouldn't want to be anywhere near Regis or uncle Ardyn tonight. "I would, but... I can't, sorry." His uncle, again. That right now had been too close to an _incident_ , and his dad was drunk. He couldn't leave.

"He is scared of me, isn't he?" Noct's voice was but a whisper, and he held on tight.

"Yeah. I never got why, but... I guess now we know."

"Are _you_ scared of me, Prom?"

"Just of your fishing jokes. They're a menace."

"And of your uncle?"

"Sometimes. More often for him than of him, though."

A slow, hesitating nod, his face against Prom's bend of the neck. "It's good you're here..."

"Where else would I be, hm?" He took a deep breath. "Wanna go back inside later, or sneak past them and go straight home? I mean when you're ready. No need to hurry."

He felt the boy's muscles tighten. "Go inside later. Show them I don't _run_."

"Yeah..." It was rare that Prompto seriously felt like hitting or breaking something, but right now he wanted to take a long hike and punch whatever god had thought any of this was a good idea.  
  
"Shit. I'm not even mad. I mean, I am, but... _fuck_." A long, desperate sob, but no tears.

Another deep inhale, followed by a shaky sigh. "'Fuck' just about covers it."

“Dad just wants me to be normal, you know? So very much that he won't hear otherwise. That's why I can do _everything_ I wanna do, but I don't wanna, for... it somehow doesn't feel _right_?“  
  
"Weird gut feeling?" He knew that one. He was an _expert_ on that one, having spent his life in the same house as Ardyn... and his dad, who seemed to be a firm believer in paying attention to gut feelings.

"Like I'm not _supposed_ to live like this?" His fingers moved slowly over the bumps in Prom's spine. "If what your uncle says is true, and I'm _intended_ for something else, then..."

Prompto's hand was in Noct's hair now. "Then fuck this shit," he said. "He's right about _that_ at least. What do _you_ want?"

" _Be happy?_ "

Prom felt something soft brush the skin of his neck, and his face heated up. Whatever they were doing here, it had pretty suddenly moved away from _hugging_. "Noct..."

"Mh?“ _An accident. It had surely been an accident._  
  
"I... want you to be happy, too." If they didn't break this up now, there would only be more accidents. Nothing bad, really, just... He could live without adding more complications to this night. "We should probably head back."

“Why don't you just go ahead? I'll be down in a few, okay?“ The prince's hands sank down to the floor, once again so very tired.  
  
Prompto let go, more reluctant than he usually would have been. "Uh... call me a drama queen, but... after that stuff right now? I'd feel pretty shitty about leaving you alone up here."

“Please? Need a minute to clear my head.“ Noct sat on the floor like a rather worn ragdoll.

"... okay." He was still unsure, but someone should probably make sure beforehand that the apartment wasn't on fire.

The prince watched him leave. _Fuck. This was not fair. Just not fair._

“Fuck!“ he screamed into the night, and then again and again, until the tears finally came.  
  
Prompto heard, he wasn't deaf, and he hoped the window was open wide enough for the adults to hear as well. He made sure to slam the door extra hard when he came back inside.

His uncle had waited in the little hallway just behind the door, squatting on the floor like a red-haired gargoyle. “Is it raining up there?“  
  
It was just a tiny, tiny thing, that question and having to figure out if he meant it literally or if he was trying to say something else, really nothing at all, Prompto did that every day, a dozen times a day, but right now it was the famous last straw. He had no reason to cry, not really, but he was just so _angry_ at _everyone_. He opened the door so he could slam it again, then leaned against it. Pressed the balls of his thumbs against his eyelids. Gave it another kick for good measure.

It opened. Just a tiny fraction. “Tears,“ his uncle said softly through it. “Go to him. The old fool will manage.“ It was closed again.  
  
Noct had just sent him away, for fuck's sake. Prompto went upstairs, anyway - the alternative was screaming and kicking that door again, and this time they would have needed a new one afterwards. He found the boy lying on the ground, sobbing silently. It was raining up here, indeed.

He sat down with him, and just let a hand rest on his arm for now. Soon his hand was dragged down into a tight embrace filled with tears and snot and shivers. The prince had not wished to be seen this way, but now...  
  
Prompto held on just as tight. "Hey... It's okay, let it out, it's okay..."

“It's not,“ came out inbetween sobs, “nothing of it, and it's not fair, and you don't deserve this...“

 _You don't deserve this._ "Still okay to cry. Not fair makes it super okay to cry."

And for one time, somebody simply _listened_ to what he said. Noctis cried until there was nothing left in him.  
  
"Bit better?" Prompto asked a few moments later. He didn't let go.

“Gotta look like shit,“ the prince mumbled, huddling up against his BFF.

"Hm." The other boy inched away just a bit to take a look. Noct's hair was hopelessly mussed up, but he still made an effort at pushing his bangs back into place. "Bit puffy, nothing some cold water won't fix. Let's get you cleaned up, and we can hug it out somewhere else?"

The boy nodded slowly. Got up. Reached out to pull Prom up, a weird little tradition since the first day they met. Prom gave him another hug, then slung his arm around his shoulders, and started to walk. All part of the ritual, although the hug was a rarer addition. He only let go of Noct again to find his keys and open the apartment door, just a fraction of an inch, first. "Ready?"

"Ready when you are."  
  
They stepped inside, and this time Prompto closed the door quietly. Listened while he took off his shoes, if the adults were still at it, or if anything had changed while they had been outside. If uncle Ardyn had _talked,_ but judging by the _fun_ their fathers were having, his uncle had kept his mouth shut. They had started telling _jokes_ of a kind that certainly was not meant for their ears.  
  
Noct had nothing to prove, in this case, not right now, so they snuck past them to the bathroom first, Prompto's room a handful of water and some hairspray later. It was a few minutes later that he reappeared, Noct yawning and telling them he was going home, no, no worries, Iggy was coming over, cab was on the way, you have a good one, and it was only Prom who stood at his side who heard the tiny 'fuck you' that came after it.  
  
It was also Prom who made sure that Noct got to the cab without any other incidents. He returned to his room after that, and couldn't be bothered to slam the door, but he made sure to _lock_ it. It was something he hardly ever did, but he just didn't want to see anyone, not even accidentally, not even well-meaning. Prompto curled up in bed. He couldn't sleep that night.


	7. Beginnings

There were a lot of sounds that were to be expected in a place like this. Clanking metal, the thud of boots on tiles, machines beeping, hissing hydraulics as the doors opened and closed. That annoyingly patient and polite computer voice announcing every check and confirmation. Alarms, maybe, gunfire - all perfectly reasonable.

It was distant, so maybe it was Cor's imagination, but he could have sworn that there was another sound here that didn't fit the bill, a room or maybe two to his left. It sounded a lot like crying.

Disinfectant and wintergreen in the air. Things were going rather well up to now, even though he never was too keen on infiltration missions. They lacked the air of heroism open conflict had, but Regis entrusted him with this reconaissance and by the Gods, he would prove himself worthy.

The sign on the door informed him that he was leaving the "Production Area" and entering the "Labs" which were "For Authorised Staff Only". The production area had mostly been a black box, huge machines fed with metal plates and filled with something coming through hoses and pipes on one side, and spitting out humanoid war machines on the other.

The labs were something else altogether. A short corridor led him to the first room, the only illumination the blue glow of the tanks lining the walls, interspersed with red and green from little indicator lights at their bottoms. Inside the tanks, people. Boys, actually, ranging in age from barely older than a few days to late puberty, all variations of the same face, like photographs in a sick family album. Where the light at the bottom of the tank was green, they were submerged in liquid, curled up in fetal position as much as their respective sizes allowed, seemingly asleep. Where it was red...

A few of them were empty, but most of those tanks were simply partially or completely drained, leaving what was left of their inhabitants floating on the surface or in heaps at their bottom. Those that were not did not contain human beings anymore, flesh melting away into black, eyes glowing, missing body parts or sprouting new ones.

Cor took pictures. Any words he had would not manage to convey what he saw. They should have sent a poet, or someone who was decent in screaming in horror, but the camera was all he had. This was worse than he had expected. Way worse.  
  
The crying started up again, definitely next door, only clear for a moment, then quickly muffled. Long enough for Cor to understand it was a child.  
This room was different. No blue tanks here, just metal tables, barely visible in the low red emergency lights. It had been left in a hurry, apparently, because whoever had worked here had simply left their _projects_ behind. More of the tank kids, tied down, sliced open. Any hope that this had only been done after their passing went out of the window with a wet gurgle and a blackened, oozing arm twitching in its restraints. Too old to be the source of the cries, and too far gone.

“Would you be so kind to leave?“ A silent voice over the cries, golden and velvety and a little bit desperate. “You scare the fledgling.“

“The fledgling was scared before I even entered.“ Cor looked around carefully, trying his best to walk silent, like a cat.

Speaking seemed to make it worse, as soon as he had opened his mouth, the screams had become higher in pitch, and closer together. Easier to locate, leading him towards a desk in the far corner of the room. The lights barely reached it, and Cor only noticed the body lying in his way when his boot touched it.

Hidden in that corner, behind a barrier of chairs, sat a man, pale and gaunt, his head shaved. Amber eyes gazed at him full of distrust, and he shielded the child he cradled in his arms from the man in black. "Ssssh...there, there. It's not one of them. Looky? This is a nice man. I am so very sure he is a nice man."

Even though he cooed these words, the Immortal felt a certain itch on the back of his neck that was only there in tense situations. One body on the floor. Another one over there, draped over a chair, his gun still in his hands, his head missing like it had been torn off. "A nice man," Cor repeated the words. Nodded then. "Not with those folks."

"Very much not, I gather? A saboteur? A spy? A savior? Does he look like a savior to you, fledgling?" He held the kid a little higher, so the blue eyes could see the potential _savior_ through the tears. Wispy blonde hair, chubby little cheeks and a face full of freckles.

"Did you do that?" It felt strange to ask this a man in a hospital gown with a kid in his arms. A kid that could hardly be more than three years old, if at all. The words probably did not mean much to the boy, but something about the tone stopped the screams, and left him quiet with wide eyes and a slack jaw, deeply confused by everything going on around him. Confused, and still scared, and in need of some _clothes_ , but not screaming. Cor could not shake the feeling that he was _lucky_ the toddler was keeping quiet at the sight of him.

"Did I do... oh, _that_. No. Yes. In a way. It is rather complicated, you see? But you do not mind if we leave now, do you?"

"What?"

"Leave. This is not a good place to stay, and sooner or later, more of these unpleasant folks will come and try to discuss me handing over the fledgling, and I would have to tell them _no_ with some insistence, and I do think all of us would rather avoid that."

"I'm not finished yet, but I will come back and get the..." Cor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "...both of you asap, okay?"

For a moment, the man looked like he would protest, join him if he wanted or not, but then he just nodded. "Very well then, brave soldier. We will wait for your return."

***

Why he took them all the way to Insomnia, he couldn't quite tell, but the reason had to be somewhere between the exhaustion and defeat in the stranger's eyes, now clad in discarded and too large fatigues, the fitful sleep of the child wrapped in his old gown, and the image of the drained tanks and the beheaded scientist still fresh in his mind. The stranger hummed a little tune, gently rocking the child.

"You got a name?"

"I call him _Prompto_. Because if he wants something, it's got to happen _at once_ , or else..."

"You, I mean. The one who can talk."

"Oh, little old me, a name? Yes. Yes. I remember it darkly. They called me _test subject_ , mostly. Or _that thing_."

"I would prefer a _name_ , you know? Mine's Cor. Cor Leonis."

"Well met, Cor Leonis. Lionheart. Brave like one, you are. I remember a time..." He sank into silence, musing. Looking at his savior. Finally deciding something. "A time when they called me Ardyn."

***

The King frowned at Cor's report, and that frown deepened when it haltingly came to Ardyn and Prompto, still in the back of his car for the moment. "What is your opinion?" he asked, meaning, 'What on this bright star are you going to do about them?'  
  
"I..." Cor hesitated. He had even thought about bringing them to his home, because it seemed _reasonable_ , and they needed a bath and new clothes and a save place, but he could impossibly do that, "...I do not think it advisable to take them to another facility, even though they should be placed under surveillance. Guidance of someone they trust."  
  
Regis nodded. "In that case, I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure they would appreciate getting to stretch their legs a little sooner rather than later."

Cor blinked. "Your Majesty?"

"Since you are the only person in Lucis they _know_ you are certainly the only person in Lucis they _trust_ , which makes you the only acceptable candidate by your own assessment."

"Your Majesty?" _He couldn't be serious._

"Is there a problem, Marshal?"

"I do not know if I am qualified to handle the situation, your Majesty." _A kid and a dangerous madman and I know that I am very much not qualified, dear Gods, Regis, this is..._

"I'm quite sure you will manage." No hidden meaning there, just a warm smile. "If you need any assistance, don't hesitate to ask." After all, there were more than enough parents among his colleagues, more than enough contacts to health care professionals of all sorts, not even mentioning that Noctis had only just turned three, which made Regis, of all people, someone to _ask_ about these things if need be. Six have mercy.

"Your Majesty." The young man's face closed down until it was nothing more than an even mask. Regis knew very well what he was thinking, he knew him long enough. It was something like _fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

Was that a smirk? That was a smirk, right there on the King's face. "Dismissed."

 _Well, shit._ Cor saluted and left.

***

"Where are we going?" Ardyn asked when he returned to the car.

"We're going home."

"But you are upset about that." A hand was laid on the marshal's arm, and he looked into a worried face.

"It will be alright. No worries, okay? I am just not sure where to put the both of you, but we'll find a place." He tried a smile that was slightly to tight-lipped.

As if all this wasn't enough, Prompto was shifting in Ardyn's arms now, waking from the sound of the motor starting up again. He looked at the car and the windows and the world moving outside of them the way he had looked at Cor back in the lab, unsure if he should cry or scream or just hide. He did all of it, pressing his face against Ardyn's shoulder, tiny fists digging into the shirt, the noises he made muffled by fabric.

"So, Ardyn, do you know a thing or two about kids?"

***

The man named Ardyn walked through Cor's flat. Gently touching things, the few that were in here. "You are sure you live here? It is a rather minimalist style you follow."

"I..." For the first time in years, the marshal truly looked around, and indeed, things were rather sad around here. "I'm not home much, and..."

"You don't have time to make your home a home? I can do that for you, if you like." Ardyn beamed at him. “I would _like_ to do it, if you don't mind.“

The child had let go of Ardyn for the first time since Cor had found them, only to run away and crawl under a table, leaving only the hospital gown at their feet.

What an amazing start.


	8. Family Reunion: Aftermath

The weekend passed, and on Monday, Prompto came right back home from school. He and Noct had decided to pass on arcade day for once, neither of them were in the mood.

"I'm home!" He was glad to find that his dad wasn't yet, and his uncle on the sofa, watching some kind of baking contest on TV. He sat down next to him, still in his school uniform. If he went to his room to change he wouldn't come back out, and they needed to talk. The only question was how.

“You'll tell me that we need to talk, and it is serious, so you didn't bring cake, because I don't deserve cake.“ That all came out before Ardyn even looked at him. He switched off the TV. “Can we at least have tea?“

"Not the cake bit. They were out of the good stuff and I didn't feel like lemon tart." The boy sighed. "So yeah, tea is good."

“I _feel_ like I don't deserve cake,“ his uncle admitted while he was waiting for the water to cook. “Not one of my best moments.“ _Not one of his worst._

"I've been thinking about that and yeah. Dick move. Not that you told him at all, just... how and when, really. Maybe if his dad hadn't been drunk? I don't know."

“Wouldn't have done it if Regis was not... I do not think I would have dared to do it any other day, but he has the _right_ to know. I do not want him to share my fate. To know only when it's too late by far.“

"That's the other bit that's got me... I don't know, confused isn't really right? Maybe confused. Worried? I guess." Prompto bit his lip and shrugged, then said, "At least I know what the black things are now, hm?"

Ardyn closed his eyes. Took a heavy breath. “A sickness,“ his managed slowly. “A terrible, terrible sickness, and it's better kept with me than...tea. Black or herbs?“

"Yeah, I understood that much. I got that much _before_ you told Noct." That Ardyn was sick was a fact of life for Prompto, he didn't need prophecies for that. "Herbal, please."

A teapot was filled. “I was different once, you know? Of course you don't. How could you. I... _tried to save the world_.“ He took out two mugs and leaned heavy on the kitchen isle.

"Something went wrong, and now you're sick. And you can't be killed. And you're a lot older than you look, but I never asked how old, because we don't talk about these things," Prompto said. "We don't talk about that, or the black things, or the nightmares, or the lab dad got us out of, because you don't react well, and it's all ugly and it hurts." His voice was shaking now, along with the rest of him, and tears started bubbling up. "But now it hurts _more_ , because there is so much more wrong than I thought, and..." He tried talking through the first heavy sobs, "I don't really know how and what to ask because _we don't._ "

“Solheim.“ Just one word that seemed to cost the old man so much. “When I was a kid.“ He tried filling the mugs, but spilled half of the tea. “And Cor does not ask because he _does not want to know_.“ So much tenderness in his trembling voice.

"That..." The boy sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his school uniform. Tried for better words, but they wouldn't come, so he stated the obvious. "That's... old."

“Pretty damn old.“ He found a rather dirty hanky in his pocket and wanted to hand it to the boy, but then decided against it and gave him piece of kitchen roll.

"Thanks..." Prom blew his nose, and did his best to get the crying back under control. "If I'd paid attention in history or RE I'd probably go, 'oh!' by now?"

"You might want to moogle it. And I may want to sit down until you've done so." The same tone of voice he had talked to Noctis in, the same strained, so very _human_ posture that was so very different from his usual ways.  
  
Better to listen, then. It took him a while to search for the right thing, but when he had found, he read, and frowned, and frowned deeper, and shook his head. "That's... not how it went, though? Right? I mean... you..." _You're my uncle, I buy coffee cakes for you._ "So that's why... I mean you... already said the first bit was true, but... 'Usurper'? Really?"

“That is very much _their_ version of the story, even though I must admit those were some rather troubled days in the end. Things got only worse after that. How about waffles? I would like some waffles.“ He got up again and started plundering the fridge for ingredients.

"Ardyn." That didn't sound like a yes to waffles, but then again, it wasn't an explicit no, either. "What _happened_? Really? If I want help either of you I need to _understand_ this."

“I was trying to help. Lay on hands to _heal_ like the people on TV, only that I could do it. Truly. I took their pain into me, to bear it in their stead, for I was created for that. That's what I thought, at least.“ Keeping himself busy with whipping up dough seemed to help him to steady himself.

"You did that, and now you've got... all of that inside you and... then..." Now it clicked into place. "And then you were too much." That's what both he and Cor had been asked so many times, if his uncle wasn't a little _too much_ to handle. If it wasn't better, just maybe, to let professionals take care of that, there's places where people like him were _safe_ \- and far away from their neighborhood.

" _They_ never told me I wasn't supposed to do it. Or that it wasn't the _right_ way. It was the only way I _knew_ , and it felt so very good. The adoration. The gratitude." A weird little smile as he plugged in the iron.

"Yeah..." Another shake of his head, and Prompto said, "I guess I'd be tired, too." Not that he could wrap his head around a span like two thousand years.

“They locked me up, then. I _think_. That is what comes in the bad nights. I got a little lost during that time. Maybe that's when I went _mad_?“ It was the first time Prom remembered him saying that word. Wait for the iron to heat. Wait for the dough to settle. Ardyn held onto his mug.

He remembered punching a classmate in elementary school, though, for calling his uncle exactly that. The boy had only parroting his mom, still... Cor had to pick him up that day. Somehow, all that made it worse to hear Ardyn say it himself. Prompto didn't say anything more, for the moment.

"Then, there are only vague memories. Gaps in between, sometimes of decades. Then there was _you_ , and I remember holding onto you so tight that Cor had to take me along." The hiss of fat and dough on the hot iron. "Things got better after that. Sugar or cream?"

"No, thanks." He was going to cry again. None of this was fair. Not because of some ideal he held his uncle up to - Prompto knew that Ardyn wasn't harmless, or innocent, or any of that other stuff. He was difficult on his best days, and Prom had seen the things living inside him _eat_ people, for all he knew, and his uncle doing nothing to stop them. Maybe he even let them loose - not like anyone could tell the difference. Ardyn was scary.

He was also where Prompto went when he just needed a hug, or some cocoa and no stupid questions. The most heated arguments they had were over soap opera plots. No matter how scary he was, Prompto was certain his uncle was trying not to be, and he knew as sure he knew anything that he would never lay hands on _him_ , or _Cor_ , or even _Noct_ , even though he had every incentive to do so handed to him on a platter, by the _Gods_ , no less. This was so fucked up.

Right. He was crying again.

Ardyn very gingerly unplugged the waffle iron and went over to the boy. Hugged him. Hugged him like a man that could use a hug himself.

“I am so very sorry,“ he mumbled, for it was true. Neither of them deserved to put up with this, and that even included him. Prompto just hugged him right back and held on.

***

Cor knew that something had happened even before he opened the door silently. The smell of freshly baked goods was like a distant fire on the horizon. A sign of bad things. When he saw the tear-stained scene that played out in his kitchen, he stood a moment, frozen in sorrow. _No. He did not want to know._

His choice, though, only mattered to a certain degree. "Dad?"

"Prom? You're making waffles? Want me to help?"  
  
The usual outcome was this: Prompto would say yes, and sure, and whatever the matter really was, it would stay between the boy and his uncle. He was already hesitating too long, though, looking too torn between going on as usual and _saying something_. Looking up at Ardyn for confirmation.

"I told the fledgling my truth. The abridged version. It is up to him if he wants to share it with you and up to you if you are willing to listen. And I would not mind you helping while I listen and bake."

Cor was struck by lightning. He had expected that _something_ had happened between Regis and Ardyn while he was gone, but this wasn't even close to the supposed outcome.

"It's... not just a past thing. It... it matters now. Or will soon." Prompto sniffed again. "And it's not just us, it's Noct and his dad, too, and that's important to you, too, right?"

Cor closed his eyes. _What nightmare had he stumbled into here? Any why did everyone know except him?_ "Is that what you talked about with his majesty, Ardyn?"

"The child was quite understanding."

"Which fucking child, Ardyn? Noctis?" Something about the tone of his voice made the old man quiver.

" _Dad_." None of them were yelling, but they might as well have been.

Cor took a deep breath. Took a drink, then. "Okay. Prom, would you be so kind to explain to me what this is about?"

Ardyn shuffled off to make _waffles. Waffles were important now._

And Prompto _explained_ , as well as he could. Who Ardyn was. What Noct's fate was. He didn't leave anything important out, he just kept it short, concise - Cor-friendly. Prompto-friendly, too, because the longer he talked, the more likely he was to start crying again. Cor nodded now and then, and sometimes Ardyn nodded too, midsentence, when he allowed himself to listen to the fledgling's explanations, mouth full of sugary pastry. After the boy had finished, there was a long silence, and the marshal emptied his second glass, went over to the old, the _so horribly old_ man and held him tight.

Better than expected, really. Prompto was just about to get up and move to the kitchen, too, when his phone buzzed. He took a look at the message he received, and said, voice flat, "I think I'm going to be sick."

“Prom?“ His dad switched from _caring_ into _state of highest alert_ in an instant.

Prompto just turned the screen towards his dad and uncle so they could see for themselves. The picture on in was familiar, Cor very likely passed by it almost daily - a snapshot of one of the murals. The text below it said,

_so we know now the guy in the middle is me..._

The second message was the same picture, just with the figure to the King's right circled in red.  
  
“Shit.“ Cor groaned. He was suddenly quite aware that the guy there was a _blond_. “Prom, that could be _anyone_. You aren't the only wheathead in the world.“

"Not in the world, sure." Rare enough in Insomnia, though, one of perhaps five who knew what the Citadel looked like from the inside, and they both knew it. Certainly the only one close enough to Noctis to even get the idea.

Ardyn had caught enough of a look to _know_ which picture this was and mumbled something that sounded very much like "Now this is just _mean_ " while he escaped Cor's hug for further waffles.

"I'm pretty sure I know who the other two should be, but..." Prompto shook his head. "It doesn't matter, right? We're not going to let any of this happen, so it doesn't matter."

"We don't?"

"No, Cor, we don't.” Ardyn chirped in, his mouth full. “I already told the children that I am not willing to follow the rule of _them_."

Cor looked at him, irritated by that moment of clarity from a man with powdered sugar in his stubble.

"Think it will be that easy?

"No. But I am very willing to give it a try."

Meanwhile, Prompto looked at the picture again, frowning. That was Gladio to Noct's left, he was sure. He had even started growing that beard recently. So... He zoomed in on the fourth figure, hanging on to his comrade. Wounded. Blinded.

The boy put the phone down on the kitchen counter, and left for the bathroom.


	9. Princess

She just needed five minutes without a camera, without an interviewer, without someone _watching_ her as she healed the sick and posting videos of it all over. As if doing the deed alone wasn't trying enough already, and smiling while she did it so the poor soul in front of her didn't feel guilty for coming to her, now she also had to make sure she looked presentable enough for the media. Yes, it was high profile and very much political that she was here at all, and yes, it was important that she was this close to the gates of Insomnia, showing the oh-so-great goodwill of the Emperor. See, I will let you have your Oracle. See, I give you what you need in these trying times. See, I care more than the King behind the Wall. The worst thing was that it worked. She had to, anyway, because this was what she did. The Oracle traveled, and she healed, and the proximity to the Crown City was welcome. Maybe some exchange of information could take place that wouldn't otherwise be possible. At the very least, Noctis and she could pass the notebook back and forth a few times without all that much delay.

Lunafreya stepped into the supply closet, and shut the door behind her. She took a deep breath. Five minutes.  
  
She did not get those. Maybe three, until the door opened. One of the nurses, a tall guy in his fourties, red hair in a bun. A short smile, and a nod, and a "Fancy meeting you here," before he closed the door behind himself. Luna smiled. Of course she did. He probably wanted to get something from the closet, and would be gone in a second.

He wasn't.

"Is there anything you needed?"

He blinked. Nodded slowly. "A hug would be nice, even though that is probably something you need more than me. Not that you'd be allowed to admit that, considering who's ever at your side."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Your chaperone. I'm rather sure you remember her. Dark hair and a rather _eccentric_ style of dress." Out of the nowhere, he produced a cup with a brown liquid that smelled very much like cocoa. "Thought you might need this. My nephew enjoys it on days when the world is a dark place."

This was getting suspicious. Luna moved to the door, just to see if he made any attempts to keep her away from it. "And you are...?"

He stepped aside graciously, trying to appear as harmless as a man of his size could. "You know my nephew. He cared for little Pryna when she decided to visit us."

Prompto's uncle. In a supply closet, in scrubs, in a small clinic outside the Wall. With hot chocolate out of nowhere, talking about Gentiana as if he knew her for no discernible reason. None of this added up. Not under normal circumstances. Luna's smile returned. "I'm still grateful. Please give him my best. Now, if there was anything you wanted, I'd suggest you either tell me _now_ , or make sure I can contact you later. The Imperial guard is _quite_ concerned for my well-being, and I have been away for a while."

He shook his head. "Still three minutes, and it will stay that way as long as you need for a proper break. I highly suggest you sit down and have your cocoa while we talk, and I promise I will not lay hands on you, no matter what Gentiana has told you. I implore you, Mylady. It was was hard enough to find you alone."

Just to make sure, she checked her phone - the otherwise animated background was frozen in position. Luna looked back up at her visitor. Somebody had some explaining to do, and she wasn't sure if it was _only_ him. She stretched her hands out to accept the drink. "Very well then."

He smiled and squatted down with her. "Now, how to start this..." He rubbed his hands and gave a lopsided grin. "I will have to admit I only planned this far. Get her to talk to you, and tell her the truth, and she will surely understand. Only that I never really thought about how to formulate the truth so it sounds believable to your ears, my dear Lady Lunafreya, Let us start with a little history, shall we? Question to the class: What do you know about the accursed healer?"

"I have been reading and discussing the Cosmogony since I learned to tell letters apart. Let's go with that for now."

"Yeah. Hi."  
  
She thought about it for a moment, let it sink in, and all the while looked a lot less shocked than Regis had. Wary, certainly, but not shocked. "Go on."

“I wanted to talk with you about the things you do and the way you do them. The way you heal. Drink your cocoa. It's good for your nerves.“

"Before we go any further, I have a question." She frowned. "Not a question, as such, more a statement of fact, tied to one. What are your plans with Noctis? Because if you have _plans_ , you should already know that I will make things as hard for you as humanly possible."

“Plans? Oh, yes. To die at his hands when he's about, oh...70? 80?“ Even though I highly suspect your chaperone and her friends will make that as hard as possible for me already.“

"To die at his..." she echoed, then stopped herself. "That is it? Just wait out a lifetime and then hand yourself over?"

“Oh, he has to be strong enough. Which he isn't now. And I will have to find a way to make him, in accordance with the Prophecy, because, my dear Lady Lunafreya, if I have to carry on even longer than that, I...“ His head sank down, and he buried his face in his hands.

If this was a trick, she was falling for it, and she was aware of that, but the pain was real, she knew that much, and she had the means to help. She stretched a hand out in his direction, not to heal, not immediately, just to feel what was there, just to see how bad it was, gently, until she could feel the darkness sticking to her fingertips. Once, when Luna was a child and everything had been better, she had seen a cartoon about creatures in the wilderness, and there had been this rather cute and plushy animal that got stuck in a tar pit, and it died a slow, cruel death. Ardyn felt worse.

Until he looked at her, his eyes golden and black, and closed his hand around her wrist, and _pulled_ , pulled at the darkness that clung to every fiber of her being, and she could see it condensing on her skin, running into him like it was drawn by a power so much bigger than her own. Luna saw what he was taking from her, but she only understood how much it had been, how far she had gone when he was done. The darkness had built up gradually, like walking through a thunderstorm in a large cloak, getting heavier the longer it soaked in the rain. It lifted all at once, and now she could feel all the places where it no longer tied her chest together, no longer rubbed her soul raw. She took a deep, deep breath. It felt like the first in very long time.

“You should stop doing this, Milady...“ His voice was strained, metallic, oily, wrong, the darkness speaking with him, and he just fell over to the side, black running like blood from his eyes and his nose. He was breathing hard.  
  
She had seen bad cases of the Scourge, where nothing had helped anymore, and all she could do was hold them, make sure the sun would find them while they were still themselves. See them to the end. She knew the sound of it, the smell. It didn't scare her anymore. They both knew the end wouldn't come, not like this, but her hand was still cool against his forehead, as she waited for him to find again whatever held him together.

"Drink your cocoa," he repeated. "We'll be here for a little while." Golden eyes searching hers, and he started to laugh, suddenly so very aware of the bizarreness of the situation and his getup.

Luna finally sipped the cocoa, and then she, too, had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "It's gone cold."

"Luna. May I call you Luna? It is only proper after this rather _private_ moment, don't you think?"

"You may. And what may I call you? Neither, 'Begone!' nor 'Prompto's uncle' feel like the right form of address."

"Ardyn. Ardyn is fine." He felt for her hand and just held it tight. "Even though _Begone, foul fiend_ is something I could grow used to." A tired smile.

"It's the gravitas, isn't it? 'If it's quotable in scripture, I must be doing it right.'"

"You're not doing it right unless you make those that wrote the scriptures blush. That's where my new motto comes from, you know? That, and Cor. Maybe mainly Cor, but it fitted so nicely."

"You don't really have a plan, do you? I understand you don't want to die yet. Neither do I, and neither does Noctis. I just cannot let Night fall and _not_ send him on his way to do his part."

"I _want_ to die, and then I don't. And he _needs_ to do his part, but he needs to do it on human terms, not on theirs. And you, my sweet Luna, you deserve some happiness. As I know the cold lady, she never allowed you any. You might forget your sacred duty over idle enjoyment, and she won't allow that."

"I find joy in little things." An answer for an interview, practiced and ingrained.

“I will quote my dear Cor again, for sometimes he manages to put complex things into small words: Chocobo dung. Big steaming pile thereof. And you know it very well, for you are way too smart for your own good.“

"There is little time for anything else, and Gentiana's silence on the matter would not make the Scourge go away, or bring down the Empire."

“Neither will what you do truly finish the scourge. Only my end will do that, and the end of my blood. That is what they say. I am not willing to accept it. Are you, just because _they_ say so?“ He tried to sit up, but soon aborted the attempt. The floor was more comfortable anyway.

There were ideas forming in Luna's head, thoughts that had no place in her life and work as the Oracle. It would have been so easy to blame this on Ardyn, brush it off as the influence of the Accursed, but she knew what he had and had not done in this room, and she knew that she had probably never been more clear-headed and sound of mind as she was now. "I know that for the moment, all I do is buy time for Noctis to come into his power. I know that for him to fulfill the prophecy, the Oracle has to commune with the Astrals, wake them and clear his path." She licked her lips. "I'm twenty-one, and childless." They needed her, enough to give her some leverage to ask _questions_.

“ _They_ work under a close time limit. Not because of him, but because of the two of us. Because they can't control their own creation, and their solution might very well end up killing them.“ Slowly, very slowly, his breathing calmed. “This, my sweet Luna, is why your chaperone is always at your side. To end you when you become too full, before they get a second one like me. At least, that is the way little old me thinks their mind works. I might be mistaken, or simply lying.“

Luna shook her head. "You know, I never stopped to ask what the gods might gain from this, other than your end. Because now that I've met you, that alone seems a little... narrow."

"To undo their own mistakes. That might be it. To rest with a clean conscience. I will not claim to fully understand their ways." This time, he managed to sit up.

"As a matter of security... Am I right assuming that when we open our eyes, it will be a minute and a half, not three anymore? Because the healing actually took place. If the hot chocolate is actually here, it will still be hot, not cold like I imagine it now." That sounded a little hopeful. Small pleasures, indeed. "The rest of our conversation played out in our heads, in the space of a few thoughts."

“You are quite wrong, my dearest, but right about the cocoa. There is one favor I want to ask of you, if it is allowed.“ His face cleared up from the blackness more and more.

"Ask and I will let you know."

“I very well know you cannot stop to do what you were chosen to do, but allow me to take your burden from you now and then. This old man is already lost, but you do not have to be.“

There were tears in her eyes, not yet shed. "Thank you."

“I of course expect you to take care of the princeling, but that you will do anyway. And to stop listening to your chaperone so much. A young lady deserves her delicate little secrets.“ His hand caressed her cheek.  
  
"Ardyn..." She took his hand to guide it away from her face. "So far you have given me good reason to believe that you are not trying to pull my strings to feed your ulterior motives." Still, she smiled, and held on to the hand. Luna had had older men flirting with her hoping to gain her trust since she hit puberty. She was fairly certain that this wasn't what he intended, but it was better to make sure he knew where they were standing.

"We might want to stick with that."

He blinked. “Excuse me? She saw questioning eyes, then realization, then a blush rising in his cheeks. “That is not what I meant. Ew. My number, yes, because if you send Pryna she'll know, and sometimes hot cocoa, but nothing more.“

Her smile grew a little wider. "And Prompto's, to give me good reason to have yours."

He thought about that for a few moments, then shook his head. “You'll need to ask Noct for that. My boys don't know I'm here. None of them deserve the nervous breakdown this knowledge would bring them. Delicate little secrets.“

Luna nodded. "I will, then."


	10. The Cake Is a Lie

Ignis was early, as he always was, even though he knew that Noctis would very likely be fashionably late, as he often was. They were meeting in a small café halfway between the school and the charity event the prince was supposed to show his face at, to go through a few of the more important points of the night. Neither of them minded. The coffee was good, and there was no salad on the chicken sandwiches.

“Would you mind helping me with a decision?“ The hobo - no, not a homeless person, too much mohair and silk and finely spun cotton among the layers he wore, an _eccentric_ \- smiled at him. “It is of some importance to me, but rather easy for you to make, since it is of none to you, and you seem a man of good taste.“

"Not at all. How may I help you?" There certainly was no harm in doing this, and Ignis had some time to pass.

“Do we feel like classical chocolate today or like the rather promising strawberry tarte? Or something completely different?“ He managed to sound more serious about this question than Regis in some political things.

Ignis kept a perfectly straight face. "I'd say that it's not quite the right time of the year for strawberries yet. I doubt they will taste as good as they look."

“Which one would you choose if you'd had to choose?“ A little nod to the local selection of cakes.

"It's on the simple side, but the chiffon cake here is excellent."

“Then it will be two slices of chiffon, a cup of black tea for me and one Ebony for my young friend.“

“Of course, Sir.“ The server nodded and went to get his order, and the stranger sat down with him. “You don't mind if I do?“

"Thank you." Ignis nodded. "I am waiting for company, but it will be a while."

"Oh, I know, but the fledgling just sent me a message they will be late." Ardyn was rather proud of himself that he had learned to decipher those rather cryptic texts Prompto sometimes sent. For a whole while, the boy had tried, had really tried, but when he was in a hurry, he started to shorten and scramble things.

"Fledgling? Oh, you mean Prompto?" The nickname had been mentioned here and there. "I take it you are his uncle Ardyn, then?" Ignis had seen a few pictures, but they had been few and far between for him to only now be sure who the other man was.

"And you are Ignis Scientia, the princeling's chaperone. Ah, thank you, love." Cake and drinks were served.

Ignis thanked the waitress and adjusted his glasses. "I'd like to think that my duties go a little beyond that."

"Do they, now? And where do they go? Not on little journeys now and then, even though you could need those, to prevent the inevitable ulcer for a little longer." A friendly little wink as the _uncle_ arranged the things on the table in just the right way.

"I appreciate the concern, but I am quite content with my position as it is." Even though yes, it meant that he had never had a proper vacation. "You are waiting for your nephew?"

"That, too, but I'm trying my best to meet those affected by the prophecy before things get even more serious. Have some cake with them, if it can be managed." A wide smile. Yes, this was perfect. Time to eat.

Other than with Noctis and his father, Ardyn only saw the moment Ignis' jaw became tight and his expression blank. The young man nodded and drank some coffee, used the time between picking up the cup and setting it down again to _think_ and to _assess_. "Please, go on. You have my attention."

He was ruining his _foreplay_. How impolite. "I suppose you already have an opinion about the whole affair?"

"Just a cluster of assumptions, concerns, and wishful thinking, as most of us do." A tight smile. "Noctis has been adamant about not telling me what you talked about during his Majesty's visit. He has been a little out of sorts since then. It would be _quite_ interesting to know why."

"He has? Oh my. That was truly not what I intended." Ardyn seemed mildly worried. Tried the cake. Allowed himself to get lost in the cake, at least for a little while.

Ignis let him, and busied himself with his own cake for a few bites. It didn't taste like much today. "I have helped him with some of his research. I am entertaining a few hypotheses that I would have considered absurd a few weeks ago."

“Indulge me, will you? I might be the person with the most, well, first-hand experience there is at the moment.“

"It does seem like it, yes. Especially if you are as old as what we saw indicates. You're _him_ , aren't you?" It looked like Ignis wanted to add more, but he faltered, and finally only asked, quietly, "He's going to die, isn't he? Sooner than he should?"

"And you are going to suffer a fate worse than death. According to prophecy, that is. And yet we are sitting here and having an indeed rather delightful piece of cake. I'm rather sure this wasn't augured anywhere, and I would very much prefer the next, say, sixty years to be like that. More cake, less blood and tears."

The young man being so _detached_ about the whole thing made it easier for Ardyn to talk about it.

"I think we can agree on that, yes." With the color his face had turned, warnings about stress related stomach issues came a little late. "If Noct's reaction is anything to go by, you don't know how to achieve this goal, either."

"It is rather hard to _know_ such things. That's why humans went with _praying_ and hoping for the best for so long. I do have ideas, but alas, not really a plan. Yet. I'm still in the 'meet the other parties'-phase."

"I suppose cooperation _is_ a rather good starting point." Ignis nodded. "Whatever we do next, Noct's safety is my first priority. I'm sure you understand."

“I have heard this before, indeed. From pretty much everyone, as these things are to be expected.“ He dipped a bit of cake into the tea and ate it gracefully. “It is rather frustrating, you know, how much a title changes. Even the fledgling seems to prefer companions his own age, no matter how long we know each other.“ That was only half true and mainly the product of the teenage wasteland that was Prompto's brain, but it hurt a little nonetheless.

"Just to be clear: Noct is my friend. The title is secondary in this. That being said, I would very much prefer it if _everyone_ got out of this mess unharmed."

“Oh, I very much hope he is in your heart, my dear Ignis. It is important to have good people at your side in any position, but especially in his. Those who are lacking them...“ A sad little headshake. It was clear he was thinking of _somebody_ , but wouldn't say until someone asked nicely.

"Are rather unfortunate." Ignis frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

Ardyn pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I would like you to take a guess. You seem wise enough to give an interesting answer."

"I'm fairly sure that you are not talking about yourself, because if you were, I would have to remind you that if anything were to happen Prompto _would_ come to _your_ aid first, and that would put us in a rather awkward situation. Aside from the fact that we are having this conversation specifically so no-one will have to choose."

"And I have Cor. Who does try his best to keep messy ideas out of my head, even though allowing him sometimes needs a certain amount of good will on my part, with him telling me _don't_ and letting myself fill in the blanks." A slight smile that showed actual fondness.

Ignis returned the smile for a moment. At least something was already working out well. He sobered up quickly, adjusted his glasses. "There are some parties involved in this whose status I honestly don't know. Lady Lunafreya comes to mind, though. I cannot imagine her to be happy with her brother's involvement in the Niflheim forces."

“A wise man, as I thought. Where do you see the problems with little Luna, other than her brother dearest?“

"Her confinement," Ignis replied. He turned the cup in his hands, coffee now cold. "And the constant surveillance that comes with it. Securely communicating with someone who is basically a political prisoner isn't an easy feat."

“Mhm.“ A slow nod for this very _human_ answer. “And you do have suggestions what to do to work around this?“

Ignis frowned. "I would have to think about it for more than a few minutes, to be honest. A misstep could lead to serious consequences on a large scale."

Ardyn briefly wondered if he could provoke a heart attack in a boy his age by just telling him what he already did, but decided against it. That would just be mean.

“Please do.“

A nod. "I will." He took a look at his watch and sighed. "They _are_ running quite late." There was more than just a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“It gives us some more time to speak, which may not be the worst thing. You're the first of them I can speak to without...“ A fork full of cake. _Not completely without._

Ignis, too, pulled the plate closer again. Much longer and he would have to go and pick Noct up, but for the moment, he might as well. "Without...?"

“My _past_ stirring too much. It is rare, and I thank you for it.“

Ardyn had a vague idea why. A sense of nostalgia that woke deep within, a half-lost memory of an old familiar.

"I can hardly take credit for that, but I'm glad to hear it." His face relaxed a little, a conscious effort to come across a little less _stern_. "I certainly don't mean to cause discomfort."

A raised fork waving away his words. “You have every right to cause it, and every right to feel it yourself. You are as much part of this as the boys are, and are supposed to bleed even more. I find it very undeserved.“

Now that his expression was a little less guarded, Ignis’ discomfort was more obvious, drawn lips and evasive eyes. "Usually I would ask for details, and I probably should."

“The prophecy speaks of one wise man who will give the light of his eyes for the King of Light. The illustrations... point to you, and they are rather accurate about the other three.“

"That they are." Those pictures had been the garula in the room between him and the prince for the last two weeks. "And I'm afraid they are correct in assuming that it is something I would give to ensure Noct's well-being. But a wise man?" A wry smile. Ignis shook his head. "Not much wisdom to be found if I already know that it won't save him."

“Why do you think such horrible things if your worst enemy is not willing to think them?“

The boy - and a boy he still was - was better at playing down his emotions than his liege, and far better than the fledgling. One almost couldn't see the shiver running down his spine. "I'm not saying that it is impossible to save him at all. We already established that the prophecy is off the mark, and we are actively working against it as we speak. All I _am_ saying is that there is no point in a sacrifice that I now know is playing into our _common_ enemy's hands."

"The wisdom will come, sooner than later, prophecy or not." Piece of cake into his mouth. Not satisfying. "They might try to make you fulfill the words written by themselves by any means necessary. Oh, how they hate being in the wrong." Ardyn laid down the little silver fork, folded his hands to hold onto himself.

Ignis set his jaw and nodded. His response was tight, and he might as well have been talking about a particularly petulant child. "They will have to deal."

The Accursed’s smile was wide, and Ignis felt the older man's cold hand around his own for a moment, squeezing it in sudden sympathy. " _Thank you_."

A short moment of hesitation, and another nod. Once Ardyn let go, Ignis used his free hand to pull something from his jacket pocket. A card. He handed it over like it was a matter of course for a teenager to carry those. "Thank me by keeping me updated. The more I know, the more helpful I can be."

The old man took the calling card with both hands and took a good look at it. "I will thank you for working together when things _worked out,_ until then I will only thank you for your sensibility. It is rather liberating not having to be the most reasonable in this undertaking anymore."

"You may be giving me too much credit. I understand His Majesty is on board as well?"

"I'm giving you the fair share of credit you deserve. Yes, Reggie seems indeed to be rather happy with the idea of ending all this peacefully and without unnecessary deaths. The boy shares his opinion with little Lunafreya in this." There. He said it, as nonchalantly as he managed, just as Ignis had taken a sip of his coffee.

Somehow, Ignis managed to cover his mouth and keep the spitting to a minimum. He still needed a moment to get the coughing under control.

Honey-colored eyes looked at him innocently. “Are you alright?“

"Well," he replied, dabbing the coffee off his shirt as much as possible, "we are not currently under attack, so I suppose I am. Given the circumstances, that is all I can reasonably ask for."

The tiniest pout on Ardyn's lips. Dry as hard tack, that one's humor, and very much not what he had been hoping for. For once, he was proud of himself for doing something actually _good_ , and now the only one who wouldn't pass out from the information had to do something like this. Life was mean.

"Also seeing that we are not, I take it your line of communication with her is impressively secure. Which makes enquiries on my side rather unnecessary." Ignis looked up. "I'm so sorry, did I get coffee on you?"

“You could try to be nosy, you know? Just the tiniest bit.“ Had the boy been born that way? And was he even a real boy? More composure than all of the adults together, this one. Rather scary.

"No need for further enquiries into establishing contact." Still with that calm voice. Also still dabbing away at a stain that was all but dry already, keeping his hands busy and his eyes down. "I was going to ask _how_ you did it, and so quickly."

"As soon as your heart stopped screaming because all of this is way too much, that is." Ardyn's voice was soft. "You don't have to keep up your face, child, not with me. Be strong for the princeling all you want, but I promise I won't tell if you allow yourself to be weak once in a while. It's the same offer I made little Lunafreya, and it's the least I can do for causing all this trouble."

Ignis stopped and looked up. He took a deep breath, and the shudder running through him when he exhaled was obvious. "I--" Another breath like the one before. "I sincerely thank you for the offer. It is, however, not that simple. You should know that better than anyone."

"I know a thing or two about old habits, indeed. Would you fancy a drink instead? It seems the adult thing to do to regain composure." Again, the old man's hand on his, and it was only thanks to the table that he wasn't in a proper hug now.

"I still have to drive." Ignis pulled his hand back, slowly. "I should also be on my way."

Ardyn nodded, equally slowly. “Inappropriate. I'm sorry.“ His hand lay forlorn for a moment, then held onto his cup of tea. “Tell them my best regards and that I just wandered off somewhere, completely forgetting about the meeting. If you would do that for me.“

"I'm sure they will understand." Ignis stood to leave. "Thank you for all of this." His time, his honesty, his offer, Ardyn could take his pick. "It was good to finally meet you."

"That it was. And thanks for your recommendation of cake. It is appreciated."

"You're quite welcome. I hope we can repeat this under less... pressing circumstances."

“Probably never, considering your job. Off you go.“ A regal wave. He still could do _that_.

 


	11. Pew

It was difficult to tell what counted as Prompto's actual 'birthday', and they could hardly call the lab to ask, so one year to the day Cor had taken him and Ardyn home, they decided that the boy was now four years old, and that his birthday was  _ today _ .

"Say, fledgling, what would you like to have?" Ardyn asked over a breakfast that consisted of cake and pancakes. Standard fare for Ardyn on a good day, big no-no for everyone else.

"This is not how it works, Ardyn. It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Oh, I very well know that, but I very much dislike surprises. One never truly gets what one desires."

Prompto thoughtfully chewed on way too much pancake at once. And then stuffed his face again when he was done with that. Finally, he seemed to have an idea, eyes wide and unable to sit still. "I want... I want...! Uh..!" And, once again, too excited to get across what he was so excited about, jumbling up syllables until there were no recognizable words left. He ended in a pretty clear, "Can we go to the shop?!" Which one, he probably said before, but the options were limited, he only knew three stores. One sold their groceries, another was a bakery, and the third sold toys.

"Will you draw what you want for me while I get dressed?" Ardyn watched the fledgling, his chin in both hands and a wide smile on his lips.

"You're coming along?" Cor was slightly worried, but the older man seemed to be ready to confront the world today.

"Yes!" Prompto jumped off the chair and ran to get his crayons.

"I would like to, yes. If you don't mind, that is. I promise I'll be good."

"You'll tell me if things become to much, okay?" Cor laid his hand down on the uncle's pyjama'd arm.

"And do it in time, I will."

"Then go and get dressed." A short twitch of the corner of Cor's mouth.

When they returned, Prompto was the proud owner of a plastic gun shooting foam darts. The thing had yet to be unpacked, so getting the shoes and jacket off the kid was a bit of a challenge, with him almost tripping over himself getting back inside to do just that. The rest was paper carnage, and Prompto finally getting his hands on the toy. He turned it a few times, and a small frown appeared on his face.

"Where is the click thing?"

"The click thing?" Cor repeated, squatting down with the boy.

"Yes. It's clicky. Or, uh, you just press really hard. It goes click... and..." He fumbled on the plastic gun in a few places that made it look a lot like he was looking for the  _ safety _ , "and then I can shoot."

Cor thought long and hard before he answered. Had the boy seen something like this on TV, and one of the rare occasions where it was displayed accurately? Had the boy seen  _ him _ handling a gun? A rather resolute  _ no _ to both.

While he was thinking, Prompto was trying to push the cylinder out to the side to load, only it didn't work that way with the colorful piece of plastic in his hands. He pouted, then pushed in the darts at its side, as he was meant to do. "Maybe plastic doesn't have one?"

"Did Uncle Ardyn teach you that?" No, probably not. Ardyn seemed to have no interest for the matter, even in the toy store he had wandered off to look at the dolls.

The boy shook his head. He had found out how to coil the spring, and was now aiming at a plastic cup on their kitchen counter - across the room, through a door only half open. "Nobody teached me." He pulled the trigger. The cup dropped and spilled its contents onto the kitchen floor.

Cor was too baffled to correct the irregular verb. "Can you do that again?"

"Uh-huh!" Prompto grinned and ran into the kitchen to put the cup back onto the table, ignoring the puddle on the floor. He ran back just as fast, sat down next to Cor, and picked up the toy gun, then shot the cup down again with his first dart.

"Prom? Can you promise me one thing? I know it is your birthday, but this is really important to me."

Big blue eyes looked up at him.

"Can you promise me to never point that thing at a living being until you're a grown-up?"

"Okay." And that was that. The kid seemed happy enough with shooting down building blocks and stacks of plastic cups with ridiculous precision.

***

Cor had decided to follow his king's advice. Plenty of people with kids around him, plenty of people with experience. He needed someone to talk to. Maybe this was just... normal? Something that happened with natural talents?

"Clarus? Got a minute?"

"For you? Yes." The other man stopped filing through his paperwork for a moment. "What is it?"

_ Stand to attention. No, stand at ease, those were personal matters. _ “How's little Iris doing? Still a little monster with little sharp teeth?“

Cor was not good at hiding that he was  _ quite  _ uncomfortable talking to the Shield about matters of the daily war with little people instead of  _ proper _ things, but Clarus was his  _ friend _ and among the rare folks whose advice he would take.

Clarus looked at him for a moment, as if he had to make sure he heard right and Cor Leonis was indeed talking about children. He smiled. "Lets us know about every new one, at every hour. How are things going with Prompto?"

"Great, just great, it's just..." A few moments of held breath, and then Cor told him. Told him about birthdays, the way the boy handled a gun, knew things he  _ could not know _ , and how this  _ worried _ him. As he talked, he remembered where the boy came from, what he was  _ bred to be _ , something he had almost forgotten, because he was just a fucking kid, and his face grew even darker.

"That...  _ is _ unusual." Clarus thought for a moment. "You don't think the boy's seen action, do you?" As far as he knew, Prompto was the son of an old friend of Cor's, killed in the skirmishes outside the Wall. No other family.

“Not in an age he'd care for anything but nappies and poo in. Would you say it's, let's say, a  _ gift _ ? Or something to worry about?“

He shook his head. "I'd go with gift." Raising both eyebrows he added, "And maybe start him on firearms training early - not now, Six beware, but early - so he knows what  _ not _ to do."

Cor sighed. “Never thought kids would be that hard to handle.“  _ Kid. Yeah. Prom is a kid. Don't think anything else. _

"Do you have any idea where he could have learned that?" Even though handling this in  _ practice _ called for a pragmatic approach, the implications seemed to bother Clarus, too. Probably for different reasons.

“I don't know what his parents did with him. I  _ know _ everything I have at home is under lock and key“  _ And has been since they moved in, even if that was more because of Ardyn. How wrong I've been. _

"Too late to investigate, too."  _ Displeased _ would have been one way to describe his tone, if the boy's parents existed he clearly would have liked a  _ word _ with them. He sighed and let it go. "And I trust that you do. As long as that is the case, and your kid doesn't get his hands on a gun before he really  _ understands _ what it does, everything should be fine."


	12. Love Is Strange (ooh-oh-ooh)

Homework was troublesome on the best of days. It took time better spent otherwise, mostly, and even though Prompto was trying, Tenebraen vocabulary just couldn't compete with the other thoughts keeping him occupied. Especially recently. Especially right now. He let his head drop onto the desk with a thunk.

"Soll ich dich abfragen?" Another thunk as his uncle placed a cup of coffee next to him. Lots of milk, but still, a day good enough to cook it.

Prompto lifted his head again. "What?"

"What do you think I said?" Ardyn beamed. "It has, for once, nothing to do with cake. Well, it might have, but only later."

"I... wasn't really listening, sorry."

"I do think you hast mir nicht im Geringsten zugehört, nicht wahr? Dein Kopf ist elsewhere." He leafed through the fledgling's papers. "And I was rather sure you needed some coffee."

"No, thanks. If I drink coffee now, I'll probably just... explode or something." Prompto sighed.

"Es ist doch gar nicht so schwer." Ardyn sat down on the floor at his feet. "But that is not what has been on your mind since days, is it? There is something else, way heavier than school."

He pulled his feet up onto the chair. "Well... yeah. Sort of. It's stupid."

"It almost always is, that is the splendid thing about the human existence. Remember the episode where... no. You haven't seen that one."

"Probably not. Look, I'll tell you, but you've got to promise me not to tell dad, okay?"

"So it is something that would make him try to run? I see, and I am all ears. Anything you need before we start?"

"Worse, he might try to give me _advice_ and..." The boy pulled a face. "I don't think he's the guy I'd want advice _from_ on this."

“So it's something in matters of the heart or colors in garments. This way or that, I'm listening."

"With clothes I know what he's going to say, at least. Black goes really well with black. This is..." Prompto sighed and shrugged. "I think Noct's got a crush on me?"

Uncle Ardyn nodded slowly. “And that is... a good thing or a bad thing?“

"I don't know."

“Mh. Are you into hens, cocks, both or don't you even know yet?“

"Both is good, I guess. I don't really care. I mean, it's not because he's a guy, it's-- he's Noct!"

“I do see several problems that could occur in your mind from that. First, you don't like boys. Second, you don't like princes, even though I may assure you that there is a long tradition of a king taking a lover of his liking. Third, you are very and uncomfortably aware that this is probably just the child of raging humours that drive those in your age insane. Fourth, you may like him back a bit and don't know how to tell him and you'd surely have to perish were you wrong. Something of those?“

"We call them hormones these days." Prompto's fingers were drumming on the table, they had a mind of their own when he was nervous, or thinking, or both. "It's not that he's a guy, that's no problem, and neither is him being the prince and all that. I think it's mix of the hormones thing and the last one, I guess? Because if we hit it off and fuck it up, things will get really awkward, or maybe it gets ugly, and then I lose my best friend."

“Well, how sure are you about his feelings?“ Ardyn's body language was wholly different from what he had expected. Not trying to hide, not fiddling with fabric, but somehow...relaxed? That wasn't a thing that happened.

Prompto himself was all the more nervous. "Right now?" His nails were clicking against the coffee mug. "It's a crush, and that's about all I can say."

"But nothing has happened? Nothing of any consequence?"

"There was... I'm not sure what that was, but it was a pretty tough night and we both had more than enough of everything, so... no. Not really."

“Then my advice would be to lay back and wait for things to come. If affairs of the heart don't motivate the princeling to follow through with what has to be done, nothing will. Also, talking of it: You're quite versed with the whole moogling for hidden things, right? I might have a favor to ask of you, if you're looking for ways to occupy yourself.“ Ardyn's fingers were braiding a thoughtful weave into his red hair.

Prompto nodded, and wrapped his fingers around the mug to still them. "Yeah. Wait and see..." He nodded again, glad about the distraction. "Right. Sure. What do you need?"

“A man called Gilgamesh, the _Blademaster_ . We lost contact a while ago. Like, a Solheim while.“ He could see his uncle _thinking_. “It was a bit of a similar situation back then, you know?“

"Gilgamesh like 'Dad got away alive' Gilgamesh? That Blademaster?"

Ardyn blinked. Cor obviously had never told him _that story_. "Excuse me?"

Cor hadn't meant to tell it to Prompto, either, but then Gladio had, and a few corrections had been necessary.

"They dug out this cave in Cleigne when he was about my age, and it turned out Gilgamesh was in there. A lot of folks went inside to fight him, Dad was the only one who came back out."

"Hm. He always had a heart for spunky kids." Not one thought that Cor might actually have hurt him. "And then? What happened?"

"The cave is still there, so..." Prompto started tapping his fingers again. "That's where he is, I guess?"

"You... like taking field trips, don't you? And Cor always says you should get out more. The benefits of fresh air and all that." His uncle was lost in thought again, but for once, they seemed vaguely pleasant.

As great as it was that his uncle was well, he was having an _idea_ right now, and you had to be careful when Ardyn had _ideas_. This particular one was pointing in a scary direction. "I do get out. A lot. I run."

"But that's city air. You will admit you've rarely seen the magnificent countryside."

He probably wasn't going to get out of this one. "Dad's gonna be pissed if I do that, you know that, right?"

"We can take him along if he wants to meet him again. He probably still remembers the way!"

"Uh..." Prompto scrubbed a hand over his face. "About that..."

“He... met him in a bad mood? Probably did. Poor boy sharing my fate. It is not like I did not tell him what the position meant, but maybe he did not believe me, as these things go, just Ardyn waxing poetically again. He should have known me well enough when he swore the oath, and what does he do? He goes and hides in a cave. Oh my. Thought he had grown out of that.“

Prompto had seen Ardyn _excited_ now and then in case of promising new foods, but this time, things were different, and there was a new, somehow more _awake_ side to his uncle that let him seem like a boy his age himself.

"That... I don't know. I guess." It was a little much to deal with, if Prompto was honest, but he really didn't want to ruin it. Nonetheless, this was something Ardyn shouldn't find out when they were already _there_ , far from home, in a cave full of dead people. Especially not if Cor was the guide. "They, uh, fought and... uh, Dad sort of... cut off his arm."

“He did? Ha! I knew he was a good one! And Gil let him go after that?“ The golden eyes were full of wonder. “That's probably as close to love as you can get with him.“

Prompto blinked. "I won't even pretend I understand you." Usually a line reserved for moments when he saw his uncle eat anything containing gooseberries.

“What did Cor teach you about asking the important questions, fledgling, instead of thinking you missed some vital information?“

He rolled his eyes. "Since that whole... thing on the roof Ignis has been spamming me with info. I mean, I asked him to do that. And you just said something about shared fate and an oath, so my best guess is that he was your Shield. And the way we got on topic and how you talk, I'm pretty sure you had a thing. Right?"

“Ah, that Ignis. He's a strange one, isn't he? And another reason against the princeling. Imagine waking at your lover's side and _him_ bringing you coffee. Correcting his glasses. Giving you a look that _he would have done better_ , even if he is not into that whole thing, but he knows what his _master_ needs, and...“ He looked up at the teenage boy. Grinned. “Yeah. A thing. Even I was young once, and Solheim was less... conservative in some things. You found love where you found it.“

The look Prompto gave him when he elaborated on Ignis was absolutely worth it. "I will just pretend didn't hear the first half of that."

***

"This is totally in the top five list of the worst ideas you've dragged me into," Prompto said, switching on his torchlight and carefully stepping over some rocks. "Dad will murder me. If this place doesn't, first." His boot touched something light. It rattled. He lowered the torch to look at it. "We're barely inside and there's skeleton already! Dead people bones!"

"That's a little bit odd," his uncle murmured. "He was always so very neat when we travelled together." He cleared his throat. "Gil? Gil?! I'm back! I know it has been a little while, but there's a good reason for it!"

Nothing, not yet. They moved further into cave, Prompto cursing under his breath the whole time. The corridor opened into a cavern, illuminated by torches along the walls. "Okay, yeah, _someone_ is definitely here," Prompto muttered. "You sure this is your guy?"

"I will decide it when he graces us with his presence. Which he certainly will, for the Shield will not deny the wish of the Heart it protects, not even now, will it?" Something about his uncle's usually so bumbling walk had changed. Long strides and a certain tension in his body he never had. Was he trying to _impress_ this immortal creature he claimed to know?

His entrance was formidable, they had to give him that, all smoke and echoes and _looming_ over them with his hood and metal mask.

They barely saw Gilgamesh move towards Ardyn, quickly pinning him to the wall of the cave at eye level. _His_ eye level.

Ardyn's feet dangled uselessly in the air. How could a man be so much taller than his already slightly oversized uncle? Prom heard him fight for breath, but he didn't try to escape the hold this _monster_ had on him.

“I...“ A labored wheeze, “missed you too.“

The giant let him down, as gently as you could possibly let someone down you had by the throat. The smoke cleared, and as it went, he seemed to shrink. He was still freakishly tall, but by a standard that was conceivably human. His hand reached up for the mask, and tried to take it off. It just creaked, didn't give enough to let him remove it.

“How long has it been since you last tried that?“ Ardyn's voice was gentle in a way Prom never heard before, soft and lacking all of the usual theatrical grandeur. His hand was over Gilgamesh's, keeping him from continuing. “You'll hurt yourself. Don't.“

"A thousand years, at the very least." Nothing reverberating, no echoes, just a deep human voice muffled by metal.

“That is not very hygienic, and you know it. Well, maybe not the word, but... Fledgling? Would you mind closing your eyes for a bit? Your uncle wants to try something.“

Prompto, stunned until now, obliged, _quickly_. Gilgamesh cocked his head to the side, questioning. He didn't ask, though. Not yet.

“Gil? You'll be delighted to hear from me that you were right for once. You always wished to hear that, didn't you?“ Ardyn's fingers caressed the jawbone that was hidden beneath the metal. “Admittedly, it has taken a few years until we got that far...“

A deep sigh. He leaned into the touch. "And I for once wish I had been wrong." Prompto didn't know the language he spoke next. Ardyn did. " _It's been too long..._ "

“ _They didn't let me go. Then, I could not. Then, they didn't let me go again._ “ Black ink dripped upward under the mask, separating skin and metal through layers of dead matter. “ _I forgot myself 'ere I forgot you, but then..._ “

Gilgamesh did not flinch, let the creeping blackness do its work. When it was done, the mask just dropped to the floor. The face underneath was the one Ardyn remembered, barely aged, just like his own. He had always been on the pale side, but now his skin was stark white. Then again, after 2000 years in a cave, who could blame him.

Soft fingertips barely grazed features that had been hidden for a little eternity. “My Shield...“ Ardyn whispered in a language the fledgling could understand, but in a tone he would not, so full of _longing_ and a tenderness reserved for those in another place inside the heart.

"My King..." The words were whispered, and still carried through the cave. Prompto sat down and held his ears closed, too, because this was some very, _very_ private that he was definitely not meant to witness. No more words, though. Gilgamesh leaned in for a kiss, eyes not completely closed, as if Ardyn could just vanish if he let him out of his sight.

“ _You will slap me if I try, won't you? Not that I wouldn't deserve it, at least in the faintest glimpse of meaning of the term._ “ Hands tracing bones that were burnt into his mind deep enough to have survived all that lay behind him.

All he got was a so, _so_ familiar long suffering sigh. He could feel the breath of it on his cheek, followed by a gentle kiss, closed lips. " _You still talk too much._ "

Ardyn raised his hands, closed then around jaws white and fragile as porcelain, his thumbs running over the delicate cheekbones. “ _You wouldn't have me any over way, now would you?_ “ A moment's hesitation he tried to remember how this whole _kissing_ business worked, until he decided to just give it a try. Lips on lips, and then... just do what _feels right_ , wasn't that it?

It was a slow affair, both of them trying to figure it out again after lifetimes. Gilgamesh dared close his eyes now, and the warmth didn't vanish. He remembered feeling this, even though the words for it eluded him.

Prompto groaned. He could hear them, anyway. Shiva's frosty tits, first hiking up here, then skeletons, and now his uncle _making out_ with the legendary cave guy his dad fought when he was fifteen. Ardyn was into tall dudes in armor. Great. He could have lived without that information.

***

“Say hello to Prompto.“

In the end, the two men came to him again, his uncle squatting in front of him, a slight blush on his cheeks. Official introductions seemed in order.

The boy opened his eyes to Gilgamesh crouching down as well, a little awkwardly. He clearly wasn't used to making himself _small_. He went exactly with, "Hello."

Prompto sighed. This day could hardly get any weirder. "Hi."

“Fledgling, this is Gil. It is my fault he is still here, even though his cave-dwelling not necessarily is. Which raises the question if you would like to remain here or take a little holiday from being an imposing master of scrutiny and...“ Ardyn's hand reached for the gauntlet, “...care to allow little old me to suffer your presence for a while.“

Gilgamesh closed it around his fingers, very slowly, trying to gauge the point where his grip would be tight, but not crushing. Another thing to relearn. He nodded.

"And there is another thing I might have to tell you beforehand. A thing that... well, maybe you better sit down."

"What is it?" He didn't sit down.

" _The fledgling's father is someone you know._ " Amber eyes wide, preparing for pain.

Gilgamesh's gaze drifted to Prompto for a moment, then back to Ardyn. "Oh," he said. "Him." There was mild surprise in his voice, but no anger. "Small world."

“ _We would have laughed for days if it happened to anybody else. Well, I would have._ “ His thumb stroke over the engraved patterns on the metal. “ _Was he your type?_ “ No jealousy in the question.

A chuckle, rumbling low in his chest. Gilgamesh shook his head. " _He was hardly more than a boy when he came here, too much severity and conviction for someone so young. An angry child that took me by surprise._ " He frowned a bit. " _How old is he now? I lose track_."

“ _Judging by the way he behaves... older than me. Still so much severity and conviction. But he's... not quite in his forties, or is he already?_ “ Ardyn scratched his head. “Fledgling? How old is your dad again?“

Prompto still didn't look comfortable where he was, but he was pushing through. "Forty-two."

“Oh my, already. Time flies. Say... after things with dear Regis worked so splendidly, do you think he'd mind another visitor? Just for a few days, until Gil has seen a bit of the world.“

The boy had expected the question, but he was still at a loss for a good answer to it. Gilgamesh saved him the trouble. " _I don't think that will be necessary._ "

Ardyn's face fell. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, was it?

"The dead have no need for material things," he explained. "I do not lack in resources and can pay for my own accommodation."

“ _You... do not wish to stay with me?_ “ Ardyn looked like a kicked puppy, something usually reserved for lack of cake, only it was without the usual scenery chewing.

Gilgamesh pulled him close, leaned down for another light kiss. " _I will leave this place for you, and I wish to stay by your side. I do not, however, wish to scare this child you hold dear any more than I already have._ "

“ _But you..._ “ A mild protest before Ardyn took a look at the fledgling. “You may be right. Maybe you are. Even though he is a terribly brave boy. I would not have managed to come here without him.“ A reassuring smile into Prom's direction.

"I'm okay. Just... I mean, I only got half of that, but can you figure it out on the way?" Prompto's smile was strained. "It's a really long drive back home, and I don't want to be on the road out here when it gets dark. Not even armed, not even with you guys."

The men exchanged one long look, until Ardyn nodded. "Do you wish to leave a message that you're out for some holidays and they shall prove patient if they want to prove their might?"

"Closing the Grounds is enough. I will do so on our way out."

"Anything else you need?" Ardyn pulled his nephew to his feet and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

That, and the fact that they were _leaving_ seemed to set the boy a little more at ease.

Gilgamesh replied, "No."

"Not even your toothbrush? Well then. Onward. There are things to do." For a moment he had waited for more _words_ , but then remembered that Gil, after all these years, was still Gil, and that put a spring in his step.


	13. Blue Hotel

Insomnia was far, and the night close, so they stopped at a motel for some rest, in Prompto's case, and some... acclimatisation on Gilgamesh's side. Two millenia were a long time, the light outside was bright, and the car loud in a very different way than war cries.

That Ardyn was the one driving and nervous enough to try and explain to a very silent Gilgamesh how _cars worked_ and why they weren't at all like chocobos but then, in a way, were, didn't make anything better, but a talking Ardyn was a happy Ardyn, even if he sounded like a kid before Crystnight.

It was an experience for sure. He had heard about many of the changes outside, indirectly, and seen some in the clothes and equipment of the fools who had come to challenge him. Seeing it all with his own eyes, back at Ardyn's side, with the child of the only one he had deemed worthy in centuries not quite falling asleep behind them, was too strange for words. Strange and wonderful. 

Electronics and screens were something else he knew existed in theory. He still summoned his sword when Prompto turned on the small TV in their motel room and the first thing he heard was someone yelling threats and obscenities.

“This is what we call a _talk show_. It's a mix between the marketplace and the public court, and the fledgling assured me all of it is theatre.“ Ardyn hurried to explain. The looks the girl at the desk had given them were strange enough.

The sword disappeared, and Gilgamesh let himself sink onto the edge of the bed behind him with a sigh. The mattress gave, the metal of his armor clanking and the bed springs creaking loudly enough to be heard over Odeg (18, "I'm not the father").

“I sincerely hope he is right. Otherwise the world would be a sad one. Say, fledgling, are you hungry?“

"Yeah." Prompto got up. "I'll grab a bite for everyone and... you do you. I'll take at least half an hour. What do you wanna eat?"

“Plain rice, and rice with something spicy for me.“ A short gaze at a man that would have to carefully start with eating again.

"Gotcha." The boy hurried to leave. Maybe a few minutes away weren't that bad for him, either. Gilgamesh sighed and finally pushed off the hood. 

Ardyn switched off the TV again, gave them some silence, and a minute or two of just holding hands, both of his around the one in the gauntlet.

“ _I do not know where to start this time,_ “ he finally managed, sounding insecure for the first time in ages.

" _I do not think half an hour will suffice if I ask you how you have been._ " He moved his fingers a little, came to a conclusion. " _Help me take these off? There is a time and a place for armor, and this is not it_."

" _Bad, then worse, and a little better since a few years. That's the short form._ "

Now, where to start? He had seen Gil take his armor off, more than once, but that was a little while ago. Start with the shoulder, the only part where there was metal over metal and not metal over, so he feared, _flesh_.

It was not half as bad as the mask, and easily removed with help. The gauntlet went next. It came off slowly, and revealed - a hand. Gilgamesh's hand, white as his face, a little too cool and too dry, but whole and human enough. Whatever fabric had been below was in tatters, well embalmed in sweat and grease and other people's blood. Ardyn's little “Ew“ was heartfelt, even though he carefully kept on tearing it away. “ _So it was not just the cave that was perfumed with death and mold._ “

" _There's nothing on me that you haven't already walked through today._ " Was he sulking? Hard to say. Probably a little. " _My body... stopped doing what bodies do a long time ago._ "

“ _So did mine. Until I discovered sugar and all the marvelous things they do with food today. The rest is..._ “ He switched languages, because Solheim had no concept that came close, “...problematic.“

" _As many things are._ " Removing the armor was going to be a slow affair, because now that his hand was free, it was hard for Gilgamesh to keep it off Ardyn's. Skin on skin was something different altogether.

“ _Gil?_ “ He felt his king tremble under his touches, trying not to shy back from them. He noticed it during the beginning of their kiss, blamed it on his own wildly fluttering heart, but this was _something else_ . Ardyn sounded _scared_ , and while he knew it from the nights when the dark tides were high in his liege's heart, he had never been scared of his _Shield_.

“ _Gil? It's part of the long story, and one that never crossed my lips. I will tell you, I swear, but for now.._.“ He pulled up the white hand, placed a soft kiss on the fingertips, “ _...be patient with me._ “

Gilgamesh nodded, and slowly pulled back. " _Take all the time you need._ "

Ardyn sat down on the bed beside him, pulled the armored arm over on his knees to keep on working, and to keep on _touching_ , even if it was on his own, _safe_ terms. " _Thank you._ "

The plates went one by one, and in the end, all that was left was tattered fabric. It had looked whole in the Tempering Grounds, the colours of his hood, now faded, as bright as back in the day. Illusions, just like the extra span of height. Ardyn worked in silence for a change, even he not willing to spoil this moment with idle banter. Each newly discovered piece of skin was welcomed to freedom by his lips. He had been scared, so very scared, that meeting him again would open old wounds, would remind him of all he had lost, but having him so close again was well worth the memories that seeped into blank spaces. Gilgamesh kept his hand to himself, but he leaned into the touch, closed his eyes. He only opened them again when all was done. "I should wash off the cave," he said with half smile.

Ardyn mused for a moment, decided then that explaining the shower would be way too complicated and easier to show, and he did not wish to be alone and... “ _May I help? Your back is not a small one, and..._ “ His words trailed off.

The smile grew a little wider. " _I could never decline your wishes._ "

 

***

Prompto closed the door behind himself, and for a change sat down to take his shoes off. Home, finally, after another day on the road with the old lovebirds. "I'm back!" No idea if his dad was still at work, but better to test for it.

"Are you." His dad's voice from the kitchen. He sounded tired. "Alive and well, it seems."

Prompto flinched. The note had probably been a little too short, then. Or the reception in the cave too bad, but honestly he had not even _tried_ to check his messages while they were on the road. _Ouch_.

"Yeah..." He got up and went to face the music.

 


	14. A Stern Talk

"And Ardyn?"

Not _your uncle_ , and the tone of his voice was strange. Worried.

Cor sat at the kitchen table over a couple of files and a cup of coffee, his eyes red and swollen. Tired. He was in pants and his undershirt, a state of being that only happen during bouts of sickness. _Shit_.

"He's with a friend." Prompto sighed. Too vague. "Who am I kidding, his _boyfriend_." Still too vague, and probably more worrying. He grimaced.

Cor closed his eyes. Made a little _Ah_ sound.

"You followed protocol to the best of your abilities." His finger pointed a the piece of paper the boy left. "Thank you for that. Understand that this..." A slow blink, "...is not about not _trusting_ you, but about you being away for more than two well-documented days for the time. Very much _my_ problem. You'll tell me about this whole _boyfriend_ thing after a few hours of sleep, because I'll need those to understand the details. I trust you would've told me first thing if Ardyn wasn't safe as he can be?"

Prompto nodded. "Yessir." Saying anything more would have been counterproductive.

"A'ight. See you in a few."

Getting up was a slow process right now that needs more thought and coordination than usual, but in the end, he managed. Patted the boy on the shoulder first, then drew him into a tight hug. Cor could feel the moment it registered with the boy that the state of emergency he had spent the last two days in was over in the way he returned it. "Wake me when you need that report, okay?"

"Understood."

***

It was the smell of coffee that woke Prom, and someone sitting down at his bedside. None of the men in his home usually did this. They knocked, or wrote a message and waited for him to come out, but this might count as _special circumstances_.

"Been ten hours. Think you're rested now?"

His dad looked a bit better than he had when Prom came home, but still like a mess, trying one of his rare smiles.

"Ten...?" Prom sat up, wiped the sand from his eyes and the hair out of his face. "Yeah. Yeah, gimme like, two seconds to wake up and we can... uh... something. Talk, right, that's it."

A cup was placed on the nightstand. Coffee, black and probably with sugar. Ardyn still wasn't home. _Black_ coffee didn't happen when he was. Cor remained where he was, his own mug in his hands. That, too, usually didn't happen. Talks happened outside, on the couch. Neutral territory. Prompto took the offered drink and sipped. Black was fine by him, sometimes even better than the milk with a splash his uncle made. This was definitely one of those times. "Right. Ask away."

Cor had many questions. More than he had words, but he managed to condense them down into one in the end. A single word even. "Boyfriend?"

"Oh Shiva's _tits_..." Usually he tried to keep the swearing down in front of Cor, but that just came out. Prompto nodded. "Okay, uh. I could totally drag this out, but... short answer? Gilgamesh."

Cor closed his eyes. Hand around his jaw, looking quite a bit like having a bad toothache and trying to stay dignified. "Long answer. Please. One that doesn't form _'_ He searched all those years for the person that would aggravate you the most' in my head."

"Gilgamesh used to be his Shield, so he found him well before he could think of annoying you." Prom sighed. "We were talking about... relationship kind of stuff and he mentioned him, and I, um, I told him where he was, because... y'know. That story with you, so I knew. And then he dragged me on that road trip. And we found him, and he closed down the cave, and now Ardyn and his Shield slash boyfriend are... I don't know. Trying to figure stuff out, I guess."

"So..." Cor's thoughts were racing, and his eyes flickered along with them, "...what they say is true? A Shield lives as long as his King?"

Prompto shuddered. That was a thought he had been trying not to think, for the sake of other people still alive. People he liked. A lot. "Yeah. At least as long as that."

His dad thought the same things, even it was for the generation that came before. "But he doesn't suddenly turn out to be Gilgamesh Amicitia, right? That would be... no. No."

"Dad..." Prompto closed his eyes for a moment and held on to his mug. "Can we just not go there?"

"What shall I do, Prom? Just shrug and accept it, like I always do? I..." His head sank down, and the boy realized it had been his father's rare attempt at a joke to cover a helplessness he kept well hidden inside him. Maybe always had.

Prompto set his mug aside and moved to pull him into a hug. A good, tight one, the Ardyn-calming kind. This tried and true method didn't work on his father. Still didn't. Cor never had managed to let go enough to find calm in another's arms, and the boy felt him shake his head. "We'll manage. Somehow. Okay?"

It still didn't hurt to try, and it brought the sentiment across all the same. Prom let go. "Yeah. We always do, right?"

"Think he's preparing for war?" Water-bright eyes looked at him, forgetting for a moment he usually still didn't see him as his equal, but as a child.

"No idea. I wanna think that he's planning to avoid it."

"It might come to him. He's going up against the will of the Six themselves, and I fear they won't take it lightly. Let's just do our best to not be casualties, and make sure none of the ours are."

The boy had never seen his dad so _worried_ , and Cor realized what he just said. Sipped some coffee and mumbled an "I'm sorry."

Prompto chewed on his lip, thinking for a while. "No, you're right. And we're not _less_ screwed if we don't talk about it. We do that a lot. The not talking bit. I already said that to Ardyn, too. So far it's never been a good idea."

“I don't know if I can protect you from this, as much as I will try.“ From his father, this was a declaration of love.

He knew that, he really did, and it was good to hear, it really was. It was just not what they needed. "Dad... I don't need your protection in this. I need your help."

Something changed in his father's face, from soft and tired and desperate to a severity he only wore for the king's orders. “In any way I can, Prom.“

"Thank you so much." A deep breath. He probably wouldn't get another chance to make this point. "The 'not talking is crap' thing still stands."

Cor stared at the cup in his hands. Inhaled deeply. “I'm... really not good at it. Grown accustomed to 'hugging to show affection', but the rest... Even that has taken years. When Ardyn crawled into my bed in the first weeks because he was scared of don't-know-what and couldn't sleep, it was me who spent the nights awake. Getting used to this amount of physical _closeness_ was hard. I managed, somehow. Will try to manage again, for you. Will fuck up more than once, can promise you that, but I'll try.“

"We can start small. More practical stuff than feelings."

"Like what?"

"Like..." Prompto bit his lip. Easy to say that this wasn't about feelings. "We don't have to do this now, but like, why not keeping tabs on me for two days means trouble. I know it's not a parenting thing." The actual question he had was simpler, but too loaded. Too emotional.

"Scenario. You and Ardyn are gone. I get a call, asking me kindly to do a certain thing within the palace, nothing big, just leave a door open, or I'll never see you again. _What do I do?_ " He had played that through in his head way, way too often, and he still didn't know. Most times it ended with him putting a gun to his head after _not opening._ Sometimes after he found his son's body bruised and beaten with a hole in his skull. For a moment, a shiver ran through him.

" _That's_ what's going on? I thought..."  Prompto pulled his knees close. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I really thought it was... something else."

"What did you think, mh? I raised you to the best of my abilities. You can hold your own, and are way more reasonable than I was in your age. I trust that you won't fuck up, if that's what you thought." Still, his dad didn't look at him. Slow ripples in the surface of his coffee.

"I thought..." He closed his eyes. "'That _thing_ you brought home from Niflheim, Marshal - where is it?'"

A heavy breath. "I brought a kid and a man and some pictures. That is all. And I..." His jaw tensed. The words _cost_ him. "... love them with all of my heart. The former one, that is, don't start on the rest, okay?"

"Okay." Prompto nodded and sighed. "Okay. Love you, too."

"It was not what you wanted to hear, right? You wanted to know what... you were _supposed_ to be, right?"

"That helped, too... but yeah."

Cor rubbed his hands over his face, cup between his knees. "From what we gathered... some kind of super soldier. Better than any human. Probably the main reason why you never got acne." A short, desperate laugh. "It looked like you were the first one to _survive_ , and maybe the only one of that generation. I never told anyone that you were among the stuff I found there, and it... it never mattered to me. You're my _son_ , and the rest is technicalities."

The boy nodded again. "I'm... not all that surprised? I mean there's the tattoo and the thing with the guns and I still get..." He paused, and then just shook his head and looked up again. "Anyway, my zit free chin is all Ardyn's beauty magazine phase. And supersoldier my ass, I have to worry about mid-terms."

"You still get?" A weak spot, used out of sheer habit.

"Nightmares. Not a lot," he added quickly, "just when I'm really stressed. And no idea how much of that stuff was actually there. I mean, I was really small, there's really no way I'd still know anything about that place."

"Wanna tell me?" Still not looking up.

Prom looked down at his own coffee again and shrugged. "It's kinda vague. Someone taking me somewhere, and I never get to the bit where I find out where, I just know that it's _bad_. Or something sharp pressing into my neck. Or... okay, that's not really vague. Um. The bodies."

Cor just nodded. Those he remembered vividly. Not looking like _his boy_ , not as long as he didn't look to closely, prematurely aged because some things just went too _fast_ , and he reached for the freckled hand and held onto it, fingers cold and sweaty.

"I didn't get the connection when I was smaller. They were just creepy." Another shrug, but he was holding on to his father's hand, as well, too tightly to make it look dismissive.

"Hoped so very much you were too small to remember anything. The place was..." He shook his head. Sometimes the memories came back to him, but they intertwined with other _things_ he had seen that woke him in a cold sweat, reaching for a gun no longer hidden under his pillow. One of the reasons he preferred to sleep alone.

"It's not much. It really isn't all that much, so... I'm okay." Prompto nodded. "It's just... good to know I didn't make that bit up."

His dad was silent for a while, staring into the slowly cooling liquid for answers. "And... what happens now? Do I say something like 'Sure nice talking to you, son' and pat your shoulder?" A helpless smile.

A snort. "I don't know. We could go with, 'oh, the coffee is cold', get up and do our thing?"

"Is it _cool_ to do that? I mean, with you?"

"Yeah. I'm fine with just deciding we're done here and doing our thing." Prompto smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Mh. Guess the coffee _is_ cold, and you could probably go with some breakfast, right?"

"Yeah. Breakfast sounds great."


	15. Love Is Strange (ooh-oh-two)

"Iggy? Say, do you have an S.O.?"

That came over breakfast, between toast and tea and a rapidly blushing prince.

"Not currently." Ignis looked up and over at Noct, a light smile on his face. "Why do you ask?"

"But you had one, like, before, right? One that didn't end in a total mess?"

"I did. When it ended, the... feeling was mutual, so we parted on mostly good terms."

"How... how did it start? I mean, how does one start with this whole 'Hey, I think I like you'-thing?" Big blue eyes looking away shyly. He very likely wasn't talking about the Oracle, this flame on a far horizon he hadn't seen in years.

Ignis' smile grew a little wider. Someone was in love. "I'm not quite sure myself. My experience is limited to admiring the view and then stuttering something along the lines of, 'Oh. Certainly. Is Thursday alright?'"

“ _May_ I even think things like this? I mean, with Luna waiting and... I'm supposed to marry her and carry on the dynasty. Nobody ever mentioned love, and she... she's so very distant in every way.“ It was the first time Noct seemed _willing_ to talk about this topic. In his rare free time, he usually avoided things like these time like the plague.

"You may _think_ whatever you want." Ignis poured himself another cup. Slow morning, not a coffee morning. "There are a few things to be said for the practicalities of an arranged marriage, and even with those in mind: You aren't married yet, and you won't be for a good while. Tea?"

"Yeah." Milk and sugar, as usual, and _no, thank you_ , as usual. "But I need to let go sooner or later, right? And what if things are not reciprocated, and what if I'm just _mistaking_?"

"If there is someone when the time comes, who needs or needs not to let go of what is very much between you and Lunafreya." He leaned back into his chair. "As for now... I suppose there is always a risk involved when you let someone else get close to you. I know as much or as little about that as you do."

"And what if... if it's just about my rank, not about me?" It was rare for Noct to get emotional over things, but now he was, and his voice was shaking.

The table-width distance between them felt wrong now. Ignis pulled his chair around to sit close next to Noct and dropped the volume a little. "Do you think that's what it is?"

“Dunno. Honestly not. Don't think he's that good of an actor, and...“ A blush is rising rapidly in the pale skin. “I should just get it out of my head, right? Tell me I should.“

Ignis was smiling again. "Are we talking about Prompto?"

“Shit.“ Noctis buried his face in his hands.

"Falling in love with your best friends is not exactly an easy situation. Do you have an idea how he feels about this?"

A silent shake of his head, the feathery hair bouncing like a happy chocobo.

"I'm afraid you will have to ask him, then, if you want to take things in this direction."

“I can't do that, can I?“

"That depends entirely on you, and if you want to take the chance. All I can say for certain is that there is nothing that would make me explicitly advise you against it."

“Do _you_ think he likes me? I mean _that way_?“ His voice was muffled. “I mean, he's all huggy and touchy, but it looks like that's just the way his family rolls...“

"I honestly don't know, although I am fairly certain that talking to him will not hurt your relationship on the long term, even if he doesn't. You have known each other for too long, and he loves you too much - in one way or another."

“Or he'll be scared and have second thoughts at every touch and...“ He looked up. “I'd fuck up everything, and then he'd be gone, and I...“ He reached for his cup. “Tell me about your lover, Iggy. How did it feel?“

"I'm afraid I would have to quote poetry at you to adequately describe my feelings." Ignis grinned. "Don't worry, I will spare you. It was good while it lasted, and I wouldn't want to have missed it."

"How did you manage to fit someone into your schedule? Sneak away when I was sleeping?" This seemed to cheer the young prince up at least a bit.

"Something like that. He had a fairly flexible schedule, so we could plan around mine, to a degree."

A little voice in Noct's head said the word _hitman_ , even though he couldn't really tell why. Instead he asked why he never told, and how they met, and how old he had been, just to get away from his own thoughts.

Hitman was close in that the person in question had been carrying a violin case, it turned out. A soloist, twenty back then to Ignis' seventeen, met at one of the functions at which Noct regularly showed his face. "It was a complicated time for you as it was, between transferring to high school and taking over more representative tasks, and I was still trying to figure out what this meant for myself, so I never mentioned it. It was already over when things began to settle down."

"Dude, that is so..." His first thought was to tell Prom, but then he wondered if his BFF would start second guessing, and if he maybe _wanted_ him to second guess, and he ended the sentence with a rather surprised, " _sweet_."

Ignis blushed, a rare sight, and cleared his throat. "It was. He was. We still talk sometimes."

"And you never had time for anybody else? Or just didn't meet the right guy?"

He nodded. "The opportunity just never came along."

"We could totally go out and go looking, you know? _In-cog-ni-to_ and all!" The idea of getting to go out to _parties_ visibly brightened Noct's mood, until he realized that for Specs this probably didn't mean _clubbing_ , but political discussions and advanced cooking workshops.

At least it got him an honest laugh. "Thank you, but I don't think that would be all that helpful at the moment."

"It would make _me_ experience a side of my people I don't know yet. That's important and educational!" Briefly he wondered how long it would take Prom to use the words “totally _in-noct-ito_ , dude!” and giggled.


	16. Times Gone By

“I still do not see the need for it.“ Ardyn pouted. The young healer was fully aware that he was lying, but he couldn't allow them that last triumph over his free will. He could very well stand life on his own, even if it killed him, but they weren't willing to entrust him with his own safety anymore.

"I am afraid, Your Highness, that this is a decision beyond either of us." His new Shield tried to look at him without looking _down_ on him. Not an easy feat, with him standing almost two heads taller.

“Sit down, will you?“ Ardyn patted on the pillow next to him. “And have some tea.“ He was lounging luxuriously, or at least he was trying. The meager interior of this room didn't make it easy. Gilgamesh sat, and did as he had been told, making sure to refill Ardyn's cup before taking anything for himself. Introductions had been awkwardly made earlier, and as things were, there wasn't anything important to say.

"So _why_ did you decide to do this? It is not a path walked easily, and not one leading to fame. Probably. It seems they try everything that it does not." He tangled a strand of his long hair around his finger, barely trying to hide his discontent. Ardyn knew perfectly well that a life in humility was supposed to keep him grounded, to keep him level with those he was taking care of, but each time he saw his _beloved_ kin abide their lives in the luxury their position called for, it was a sting to his heart. Even the man that was chosen for his side seemed to be nothing they would have selected for themselves. Slightly too tall, slightly too...  whatever made him seem not _quite_ human, even if his face was pleasing to the eye.

"I was chosen." The words and the tone both implying that _his_ opinion on the matter had been secondary, if asked for at all.

“And is it your wish to go through with what somebody chose for you? I will not blame you if you don't.“ A shy smile.

"It is, and I will. Unless, of course, it defies your wishes." The Shield's was a hard face to read, and it didn't look much like he was actively trying to keep it neutral. It just was.

“Very well then. Do you wish to spend some time at my side before the oath is made?“ Ardyn usually wasn't one to give up that easily, and he was still very willing to offer this stranger the way out he never had. If the pause that followed was anything to go by, Gilgamesh was taken a little aback.

"A generous offer. It won't be necessary."

“They tell me I'm not easy to be around. I, of course, do not share this sentiment, but I want to make sure you don't either.“

"So far, I do not see their point."

“Sometimes, I am not well. The world is way too much, and I...“ A sharp tug at the corner of his mouth, “get a little bit strange. It may not be easy to watch over me then.“

His Shield seemed undeterred. "All the more need for it in those moments."

Ardyn reached for the pale hand, so much bigger and stronger than even his own, and wrapped his fingers around it. “I will not send you away, but I will accept it if you choose to go.“

***

Gilgamesh stayed. Stood firmly in the door, rejecting all people outside demanding to see Ardyn - council member or his own brother, it did not matter. What he needed was quiet, and he would get it. The healer was curled up into a little ball, rocking gently. The worst seemed over. The _worst_. This time it had been him coughing up black oil like a drowning man water, desperately trying to claw it of his body, tearing away clothes, tearing away skin, while the sickness seeped back into him, eager to be as close as possible. His screams had ended a while ago. Only soft whimpering remained.

The door closed again, and the voices filtered away. All he could still hear were the surprisingly soft steps of his Shield, and feel touch just as soft a moment later, checking if any of the wounds he had dug with his nails were deep enough to need attention.

Ardyn's hands shot up, cold and sweating, and clenched around one of Gil's wrists. Dragged him down, still whimpering in tiny, tiny breaths, and between sobs he could make out words that almost sounded like _hold me_. So he did, lay down and pulled Ardyn close, wrapped his arms and cloak around him to keep him warm, at least, if he couldn't keep him safe from this. They had never spoken about it, their boundaries breaking down so quickly, but here they were, Gilgamesh's fingers gently carding through messy auburn hair.

This was not the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. The healer's calling took its toll, and the Shield was the only one Ardyn dared to share it with. Sometimes, when things were _bad_ , he came crawling between Gil's sheets, wrapping cold limbs around the muscular body in a desperate attempt to stay warm, to make sure he was _real_ . They were close, had become so after only a short while, when Ardyn had sought the warmth of the other's lips, lonely and lost and hungry, greedy for the touch of a _life_ that felt so far from his grip.

His Shield had reciprocated, dutifully, at first, lovingly, later, when the kisses and the touches stopped being limited to those moments of desperation. None of that right now, just him holding Ardyn close, ear against his chest. His heart was the only thing steady between him and the shivering mess in his arms, Ardyn's own beating strongly and desperately, fighting down the rising tar that was threatening to overwhelm him once again. Incidents like this one were becoming more and more frequent these days, and while Ardyn still put on a brave face, it cost him more every time to do so.

It did not matter how many times Gilgamesh reminded himself that this was the Astral's will, that this was a gift of the Gods, that in the end, there would be a rewarded for the pain - it still felt wrong. He had doubts he did not voice, lest he make things harder for Ardyn. Hoped that they did not read them in his eyes, and if they did, would not take them as if they had been spoken.

"They doubt me, do they not? Some of them already do. Think I cannot bear what I take upon me..." His king's voice was low, the words slurred.

"They love you," Gil said. As much as any crowd could love an individual. The doubts he himself had were aimed at the Astrals and their demands and promises, not Ardyn. He worried and he feared for him, but he did not doubt.

“They fear what they don't understand, and I _fear_ too. I fear that they may be right. I'm... you would tell me if I changed, would you not? If my path became crooked? Or would you be always at my side, silent and ever watchful?“ His hands claws in the fabric of Gil's coat.

"You have my loyalty." He let that stand for a second, and then added, "You also have my heart. I will not shy to speak from it."

“I pray thee, do not hesitate to speak your _mind_ either, you hear? You shall never be afraid of me, no matter what happens, and...“ There was something more he wanted to say, but his voice went as the tears came.

Gilgamesh held him. "I am here so _you_ need not be afraid. How could I be afraid of you?"

Ardyn seemed to listen intently, not so much to _him_ , but to something hidden between his own heartbeats and, after a while, simply shook his head. Tried a smile, to sit up. Failed the first time, managed then. "You will not forget me, will you? Even if all the others do..."

"Never."

***

“And what happened then?“

For the first time in years, the young prince was showing interest in history. He knew the story of the Accursed, or he should have known it, but having met him like _this_ was something completely different from an intangible peril from times unknown.

"There are different accounts on that." Ignis had set up shop in the library a while ago, two long tables that nobody else was allowed to use, full of books and scrolls that spent most of their time in air tight boxes, and that both he and the librarian who had brought them out touched as little as possible, and only with gloves. All of this would have been easier if it all had been digitised in time, but alas, this was the Citadel. Time passed a little differently in the home of the Power of Kings.

"He doesn't seem the type who’d put up a fight that killed hundreds of good men." That was the story they told Noct when he was little, to make him understand how severe the situation was.

"He really doesn't, although I would not put it past him to do so in perceived or actual self-defense - there are several commentaries that agree on him losing his grip, for one reason or another."

"Think he even remembers? Prom says he's not quite there sometimes."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I can imagine it to be a sore topic. However things played out, it ended in his imprisonment. Angelgard was... quite the contraption."

***

When Gil woke, he found himself alone for the first time in months. No cold and sweaty Ardyn clinging to him like his life depended on it, or his sanity, or both. His king had not been feeling well for quite a while, as much as he tried to hide it, and the world around him had _noticed_. Instead of him, Gilgamesh found a letter, neatly folded and labeled with his name. Closing his eyes for another moment, he just breathed, already sure what he would find, not wanting it to be true. Sat up then to unfold it and read.

 _I, Ardyn Lucis Caelum, or what is left of him, hereby release my Shield from his duties. I do not wish him to die at my side, and I do not wish him to share the path I will walk any further_ . stood there in Ardyn's elaborate handwriting, way more shaky than he remembered it. _I set him free to walk in a world where the likes of me shall be no longer needed. He shall not look back onto darkness and ruin, but remember the sun that once was. May it shine for him as long as he walks under the heavens._

A deep breath later, the letter was folded neatly, and tucked away as he got dressed. It was perfectly clear what had happened, and a note written under duress changed nothing. Gilgamesh had sworn an oath to protect his King, extended it in so many looks and gestures to the man beneath the crown, and so he inspected his sword before he left, made sure that it was perfect condition. It would see some use very soon, that much he knew. All he hoped for was that they would see reason before it saw too much. If not, so be it. The years had left no doubt as to how foolish it was to stand between Ardyn and him. They had only themselves to blame.

They saw the tiniest glimpse of it, just enough to save them, when they let him talk to the shadow of the man he loved caught behind iron bars, the hands in shackles, the haggard body in a loose white gown. "He refuses to eat," they told him. "He wakes from his own screams, the guards can't stand it anymore." But when Ardyn saw him, a smile blossomed on his cracked lips. "I thought I made myself clear, did I not?"

"You did," Gilgamesh said, "but you see: If you are still my King, I have to protect you. If you are not, I have no obligation to listen."

"It is quite the dilemma, don't you think? What if I simply _asked_ you then, as the one closest to my heart, to go and meet up with me when I'm finished here?" He coughed, swallowed down a glob of blackness. He didn't want Gil to see him this way. Would not tell him what _they_ had done to him in fury and fear, even though he had come as willingly and docile as he could, for he knew very well what his Shield would do to _them_ if he knew. "I promise it will only take a little while."

"If that is what you truly want - I could never deny your wishes." Gil looked him in the eyes, and what he added sounded almost like a plea. "They did not take my sword."

"Not even I would dare that, remember?" The golden eyes that had caressed him, teased him, smiled at him so often were shimmering with liquid, inky and alien. "Will you remember me for who I used  to be until we meet again, as one last favor? I'm afraid after the recent... _misunderstandings_ nobody else will. As fickle as flames their memories are, and..." He shook his head. "As long as you are, my Shield, my Sword, my Heart, I will be, and I will be safe in you. No need to worry. All you'll need is a little patience, and, knowing you, there is no lack of that."

Gilgamesh sighed, and smiled. An angry frown was not what he wanted Ardyn to remember him by. "Don't take too long."

***

Ardyn took his sweet time. Days passed, and weeks, and everyone said he was dead, executed in front of their own eyes, but Gil _knew_ it was not true, felt it in his bones and in his heart. Those who knew him feared that he had gone mad with grief. They knew nothing about the ties that bound a Shield to their King, and he had neither the words nor the patience to explain.

Weeks became months became years, and while their once all too young king-against-his-will was no longer a boy, he himself stayed essentially the same. He could not look at Somnus, could not stand to see the regret in his eyes, the wounds never closing. He had loved his brother dearly. None of this was his fault. Gilgamesh knew that, and he made sure to tell him the day he left. Somnus just hung his head and answered not. He had aged before his time, even more than the Ring made him, but he gave him coins and a bird to ride, and his chest became a little bit lighter as he watched the pale man go.

It was the third night out on the roads when the snow came, soft and silent and in the middle of summer, and somebody sat down at his fire without being invited.

"Let him go, sweet child," many voices spoke from one mouth, bright and delicate as silver bells.

Gilgamesh did not look up. "You know my answer to that."

“You cannot help him now. The man he was is gone. Even the last spark in the sickness he has become understood that, and he asked us in his final breath to release you from your boon.“ Tiny crystal flakes danced through the air around them.

"And yet, we are having this talk. You would not bother if it was so simple."

“Your oath still holds true...“ Had he even noticed? Exhaustion and hunger were nothing he cared for much, even at the beginning of his journey.

"As it will as long as there is breath left in me."

“Why?“ she asked, her long braids dancing on a will of their own. Humans still were a mystery now and then.

"Because if he was truly and irrevocably gone, there would be none." He glanced to the side.

“Where he is now, you cannot help him. And remember that he never wished you to suffer. It was his wish above all, even above his duty.“ Much to _their_ dismay. He was made for a reason, and nothing more.

Gilgamesh took a deep breath. "Winter Mistress, I thank you for your presence, and for the invaluable gift you gave him in our time of need, but if your plan was to leave once I revoke my oath, we will be sitting here for a very long time."

She nodded slowly, just a miniscule movement in her fading shape. “Then, child, I will just return to ask another time. When you may be more willing than you are now.“

"Praise you, and farewell." The bells faded, and Gilgamesh turned back to the fire. The need for sleep was all but gone, but maybe it was a good night for it, either way.

***

“I wouldn't want Gladio to wait for me either. Or any of you. That would just be cruel.“

"It was his choice, it seems, quite firmly so. According to scripture, the offer was made to him a total of six times, but we don't know if it was the Astrals or the author who were fond of the symbolism in that."

“Would _you_ want that? Spend years and years waiting for somebody that might be dead or worse?“

"Of course I would prefer not to, but these things are rarely a matter of choice."

"Mh." Noct eyed his right hand for a long while, studied the stern features. _That did not answer my question, Iggy. Not really.._. "Think he would meet with me? Tell me his side of the story? It's like... first-hand-accounts, you know? Maybe make it a book among the others, so he at least gets a fair chance to be remembered the way he wants to be."

Ignis nodded. "It would only be fair, and it stands to reason that he would talk to you eventually. Best not to rush it, though. Make the offer, let him come to you in his own time."

"Or maybe... with a historian or something?" Noct buried his head in his hands, suddenly finding it way too heavy to stay up on its own. "This is all a bit much, you know? Immortals and their equally immortal Shields, and I have no idea what that means for Gladio and..."

Ignis sat with him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Noct, look at me."

"This whole thing is so _fucked up_." Blue eyes filled with tears and anger.

No reprimand for his language, just Ignis sighing and pulling him close. "It really is. But we're fighting. That's why we're here. None of this has to happen."

***

" _None of this..._ " Ardyn repeated, his hands clasped tight between his back. He was looking out of the window onto the sea of lights Insomnia was at night, much like a strategist looking over a map where the upcoming battle would be taking place, as he explained his strategy to his long lost Shield. The people in the streets down there were too small to even be proper miniatures.

" _I have to admit it is a bit of a gamble, and there is a sorry lack of the usual alternative routes, but such is the state of things when a war is approaching its end. You know very well I am not used to working with people this way, and that placing trust in anyone was never my strong side, but I'm willing to try if you are._ "

" _A gamble, indeed._ " Gilgamesh nodded. " _But one we have to make, if there is to be a tomorrow that sees the ones you hold dear whole... and us truly growing old._ "

" _I will have to force at least one of the kids to have kids of their own so they can some and visit us in our house at the seaside, where we..._ " He shrugged slowly, " _...breed chocobos, maybe? They told me the black ones are almost gone..._ "

" _It is hard to imagine._ " Gil stood behind Ardyn, wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“ _Say, Gil, in all those years..._ “ He laid back his head until it rested on his Shield's chest, “ _have I ever told you that I..._ “

He did not get to finish the sentence. " _There was no need. I know._ "


	17. Boys Will Be Boys

Gladio was lying atop Ignis, holding him to the ground with the whole weight of his body. Both of them were covered in sweat. Breathing hard.

Prom felt a bit out of place here today. Something was up with Amicitia's mood, a dark and angry cloud with occasional lightning, even though the big guy could control himself well enough to not hit him with more than the necessary force. With Ignis, it seemed to be different. They were playing _serious_. They were also taking way too long down there. He decided that it was time to start cleaning up then gym around them and leave them to... whatever.

"Alright," Ignis said, pinned to the mat, and for once actually unable to escape. "You have a problem. What is it?"

“Tell me something about unannounced secret meetings over coffee and cake, Scientia.“ His dark voice was low, but full of an _anger_ usually reserved for traitors. _My, he was heavy._

Ignis swallowed. It was a reaction he had no say in. His reply, on the other hand, went from annoyed to stony. "Are we on last name basis now because _Prompto's uncle_ decided to introduce himself?"

“And why are you _holding hands_ with _Prompto's uncle_ while you're waiting for friggin' Noct? What shall I make of this, eh?“ Something about the big guy was unusual today, even if he considered him a potential traitor. He rarely got this _emotional_ about things.

Whatever it was - emotional meant distracted, and that meant leverage. "Get off me. Now."

Something in the way Ignis had said it seemed to let the winds vanish from the sails of his wrath, and Gladio rolled aside. Sat up. “Sorry. Getting a bit paranoid these days.“ He wiped his sweaty face with his shirt. “Give some notice next time, okay? Could've been press or _anything_.“

" _Anything_ comes rather close, actually." Ignis sat and let his neck crack, once, twice, and looked around. Prompto had left. You had to hand it to him, he had a very good ear for when he was welcome and when he wasn't. "I meant to talk to you about that meeting."

“Hrm.“ Gladio threw him a bottle of water and sat back down. “Never would have put a guy like him under Leonis' roof. Doesn't look like a style the marshal would accept in his vicinity.“

"At least now we know where his son got his propensity for casual touch." The look Ignis gave Gladio along with that spoke volumes. A few sips of water later, he said, "There is history there, quite literally."

“Wanna tell me? More like: May you?“

"Oh, I may, and I definitely will." He stretched. "Although we may want to take this somewhere else."

"Shower and food, Scientia? Recreational activities? Your choice of eatery."

Ignis got to his feet, and walking past Gladio, flicked his ear. "My place, _Amicitia_. Shower and food. I'll cook."

“Yessir!“ Gladio saluted. Grinned. _This was probably the best option there was_.

***

 

"We have never talked about this before, and I think it is high time," Ignis said while chopping onions. "What do you know about Noct and the Prophecy?"

"Strange choice of topic." His friend was watching him from the sidelines. He wasn't allowed more than menial tasks in this holy place. "Why you asking?"

"Not as strange as what I am about to tell you. Were you aware of his status as the Last King of Lucis? That he is foretold to die?"

"That's what the Prophecy says, yeah." A sip from his second beer, his voice unusually _wary_.

"Prompto's uncle," said Ignis, calmly, sliding the onions into a sizzling pan, "is the adversary he is supposed to kill. Unfortunately for the Astrals, and fortunately for us, he is more interested in strawberry tarts than exacting revenge or fighting to the death."

Something went into a place in Gladio's throat it didn't belong. He coughed, burped then. "So... it's gonna be poisoned strawberry tarts instead of a proper fight?"

"No poison, no murder sprees, and hopefully we will all be spared the pain that we are meant to bear. Noct. Prompto. You. Me. Ardyn. His name, by the way."

"This is..." A long silence followed. He drank. Sat down.

"Hard to believe and a lot to take in before dinner, yes." Ignis breathed deeply. "There is good reason I keep myself busy while I am telling you all this."

Gladio nodded. Went to the fridge to get another beer and went out on the balcony to get some fresh air. He still had not spoken.

When it was safe to set the pan aside, Ignis did so, and when he followed his friend outside, he did it holding two glasses of whiskey, too full to be meant for savoring sips. He held one of them out to Gladio in silence.

It was taken. Most of it emptied with one big gulp. Still no words, but a slow shake of his head. Utter disbelief.

Ignis drank his own, and after a while said, "There is a chance in all this. We would be fools to not at least try to take it."

All of a sudden, Ignis found himself in an unexpected place, and that was in the arms of his friend. Gladio held him tight, or held _onto_ him, steadying himself against an enemy Ignis did not know. The heart in the massive chest was in an uproar, even if he still was lacking _words_.

He held him in turn, and waited until he had settled enough to find it in himself to let go, or to talk.

"We... probably shouldn't get our hopes up..." Gladio said in the end, not releasing Ignis, or not being able to, and it sounded more like he was talking to himself, reassuring that something he had always _known_ was still true.

"Too late for that," Ignis replied, now clinging just as much as Gladio. "We can save him. We can save ourselves. As long as we don't make any major mistakes..." He shivered.

The burly guy inhaled hard, almost at a point where he spit out what was on his mind, but swallowed it down instead. "You don't worry, okay? Worries won't change a thing." His nose buried in the hazel hair, a weirdly affectionate gesture that probably mainly came from the alcohol. Alcohol and shock. There was nothing to read into it.

"It won't, but keeping our minds on it will. And I _won't_ let this happen." He lowered his voice, almost by instinct, as if Noctis could be around to hear them. "Not just for him, but..." Almost a whisper now. "Crystal and Kings, please not my _eyes_."

"They're way too pretty." A soft growl, and the gentle touch of lips on his forehead.

 

If there was a place to be addled and emotional, it was here in his own home, and with Gladio to confide in. This however was unexpected. Not unwelcome, but very unexpected. _Alcohol and shock._ "Gladio..."

His name seemed to bring him back, and Ignis felt the _harrumph_ rumble through him. Felt a hand draw back that _almost_ touched his cheek, _almost_ turned his head to the slight angle needed for...

"Onions." Gladio said, his very own impromptu safeword. "You had onions, and veggies, and you still haven't told me what you're making."

"Right." Except for him, nobody would have noticed Ignis even missed a beat to reply, but Gladio could feel the tension, see it settle between his shoulder blades as he turned away. "Ratatouille. The onions might have gone a little dry, but it won't hurt."

The big guy stood for one heavy moment. Emptied the rest of his glass then. "Sure. Won't hurt." Defeat in his voice. "Have another one?"

"Of course." Ignis fetched, and Ignis poured, and after that he was back at the stove, trying not to read too much into something that nothing could - _should_ \- be read into but both of them being intoxicated and upset. And they both still were, or at least he was.

“Scientia?“ That came after the second, and rather full, glass. “What do _you_ know about the Prophecy?“

"Quite a lot, I would say. I have done some reading in the last few weeks, and my education involved religious studies to what then appeared to me as a ridiculous extent. You will have to be more specific."

“A ruler and their Shield. Legends about their _connection_. Ever heard about stuff like that?“ Gladio had been unusually silent during their meal, not even complaining about the lack of protein.

"By the way you are asking," Ignis said, voice soft, "probably the same myths and rumors you have already heard. While the King lives, so does his Shield."

“Rumors. Yeah...“ He turned his glass between his hands. “Rumors.“ A short smile. “You know why I never had a _relationship_ , Iggy?“

Because their positions didn't mix well with them, or so he had assumed so far. "No, I don't."

“I don't want to leave someone behind who imagines to get _old_ with me. That's just needlessly cruel. That's why I'd never talk of things like _love_ , even if my heart may not be without it.“ Gladio didn't look up.

" _I hold it true, whate'er befall - I feel it when I sorrow most; 'tis better to have loved and lost - than never to have loved at all._ " Ignis lifted his own glass. "Maybe not as cruel as you think."

" _Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love._ " This time his brown eyes met those made of jade, and the other glass was raised. "To you, Ignis." A moment's hesitation, as if he wanted to add something.

"To us," Ignis corrected without even thinking.

***

 

“Fuck.“ Gladio groaned. His hand searched the surroundings. Touched linen, touched hair, touched skin that was not his own. His head hurt, and he needed a few moments to collect himself, only to admit he wasn't really sure how he got here. The world around him smelled clean, of starch and fresh laundry and of _Iggy_ , and he let his hand rest upon the skin of his friend's back for a little while. _No, still no idea..._

Ignis did not take well to hangovers, it seemed. He groaned, and pawed at his pillow, trying to pull it over his head in a misguided attempt at dulling the everyday noise filtering in from outside his apartment.

Gladio blinked into the neatly furnished room and the heaps of fabric on the floor. _This was... No. They had not, had they? They had just been drunk. Very drunk. Too drunk to..._

He slowly climbed out of those immaculate white sheets. Searched for his undies, found them still within his pants. _Shower. Coffee. Maybe some painkillers. Yeah._ He remembered sitting in the kitchen, drinking, quoting _poetry_ at each other, him drinking even more just to keep his hands busy, and to wash away the fact that what he had felt when he saw him with Ardyn had been _jealousy_ , and then he remembered nothing more.

"Oh Mother of All," came the muffled voice from underneath the pillow. " _Why?_ "

“Because it was reasonable. Wait.“ _Painkillers now._ Gladio went and returned with two glasses of water and a blister of pills. Sat down on the bed. “Come here, Scientia. Take two and then sleep some more.“

When he crawled out from under his pillow and partially from his blanket, Gladio could see that Ignis had lost all of his clothes, as well. They were nowhere on this room's floor, either. "I... will wait." Without the pillow, it became clear that he didn't have much of a voice left. He kept his eyes closed. "If I ingest anything right now I will be back in the bathroom."

“That bad, huh?“ Gladio grinned.

"Very much s--" Ignis broke off, and then Gladio witnessed a rarity. Twice in a row. "Fuck."

His friend scrambled for his glasses, and for his phone, or at least the place on the nightstand where either of these usually were. Usually. " _Fuck!_ "

“Car broke down, flat was on  fire, you had to save a kitten. Those are things that _happen_ . Or you had to save _me_. Which is not even a lie.“ Gladio could very well imagine what was up with him.

"I need to call in, at least." Stubborn as ever. Ignis pushed the sheets off, sat up on the edge of the bed, squinting at the floor, still in pursuit of his glasses. Halted for a second, and slowly pulled his blanket back over his lap.

"Call in sick. Take the day off. You'll be of no use to Noct today anyway."

"That is the plan once I find my spectacles and my phone." He took a deep breath. "This would probably also be a good moment to mention that I don't recall anything that happened after dinner beyond... poetry, I think, and my inability to hold my liquor."

Gladio was on _his_ phone already. “Yeah, Scientia ain't coming today. Nah, no worries, just caught something mean. He's not in shape for an official call-- Yeah, I'm on my way to see how he's doing. Will be back for his Highness' training, he shouldn't get his hopes up--“ A nod towards Ignis. “Yeah, got it. Laters!“

Once, shortly after Noctis and he had moved out of their adjacent childhood bedrooms and Ignis had made his home in one of the courtier's apartments of the Citadel, he had tried to pick up Noct from school so sick that the prince, just so fourteen at the time, had insisted, strongly, on sending him home. This was probably the first time since then that Ignis had taken a sick day, and he needed a moment to process that he could lie down and curl up again. "Thank you."

“No problem. And I might a a little bit guilty that you're in this state, so...“ He patted the shoulder under the blanket. “How about you sleep some more and I'll be back in the eve with some proper fatty hangover food we'll never tell the boys we've eaten?“

Ignis smiled a bit, despite the headache, and sighed into the pillow. "Sounds fantastic."

 


	18. Little Mistakes

Prompto was fifteen years old, and this had been the worst idea ever. He did not want to call his father, quite the opposite, but he had very little choice in the matter. The alternative would have been worse.

"Dad... I kinda messed up."

"Who's hurt?" The dark voice on the other end of the line shifted to a state of alert immediately.

"Nobody. I..." Prompto rubbed at his face. He was drunk. He had never been drunk before, and while he had liked the feeling half an hour ago, _now_ he hated it. "I did something stupid and..." He sighed. "The cashier says that she won't call the police if you come to pick me up."

"May I speak to her, please?" So very neutral now, a tone that could very well order an execution if it was needed.

Well, fuck. Prompto quietly handed the phone over. The cashier was older than his dad, and had worked here as long as he could remember. Probably the one reason the police wasn't there already. "Mr Leonis, I suppose?"

"Speaking. Thank you for allowing him to call me before the authorities. May I ask in what mischief he has gotten himself?"

The marshal just shook his head as one of the Glaives came into his office and pointed at the phone in his hand. Mouthed a silent _one minute_ , then pinched the bridge of his nose.

She shrugged. "Your kid tried to shoplift a bottle of rum, and is too piss drunk to understand that something that size doesn't go under a jacket unnoticed on a small fry like him."

"Understood." A few heavy breaths. "Thanks again for informing me." Cor's mind was blank, and he decided to not follow his first instinct to send his boy to the cops so he would learn the hard way. _Why had he..._ "Is it okay if I send somebody over to pick him up? I can't really leave my post at the moment, and I'm pretty sure you don't want him around when his stomach decides that he had way too much." _And I don't want to see him right now._ His left balled into a fist.

"Fine by me, as long as it's a sober adult. And you might wanna talk to him about the company he keeps, I know _that_ brand of brainless."

***

It was indeed one of the Glaives that came to get him, a silent, scarred woman with a prosthetic arm, not fit for service in the field anymore. She brought a box of chocolates for the cashier and an envelope for Prom.

“You messed up, it looks like.“ Sympathy in her voice. _Messing up_ was something Glaives were famous for. Work hard, play hard, drink hard.

"Yeah, kinda." Prompto looked at the envelope, and decided to open it immediately. Like ripping off a bandaid, really.

 _You are grounded until further notice._ stood there in his dad's printlike handwriting. Nothing more.

The Glaive eyed the boy and his falling face. “C'mon, let's get something in you to sober you up and bring you home.“ A friendly pat on his back.

"Thanks." With the note on top of everything, he was feeling even sicker, and saying anything more would only have caused an accident. Prompto trudged after the Glaive.

She brought him to a noodle shop, where she ordered something for him, soba with a big amount of broth, with an egg and tiny flower-shaped pieces of veggies drifting in the bowl, and she sat down at his side at the bar.

"It's mainly about the liquid and the salt. The rest is just a bonus. Often came here when I was your age and up to no good, so it's kinda... traditional."

"Thanks," Prompto said again, and tried his best to do more than poke the noodles with his chopsticks. "I don't do stuff like that." Usually, at least, because obviously he had today. All the good reasons that he'd had at the time were already escaping him, though.

“Oh well, we all sometimes do stuff we usually never do. Especially if our parents very much don't want it. Don't remind me of the shit I did when I was your age, but still... little fuckups happen, and your dad knows that very well.“ She tried to stifle her grin. _Oh yes, she knew Leonis knew how that was._

“Why did you do it though? You don't seem the type for it.“

Prompto shrugged. "I don't know. We were just having a good time, and then someone had rum. And then we ran out and uh..." He stirred the noodles. "None of us could actually _buy_ any, technically, and--" Oh, yeah that was how that idea had gone. "Rum had kinda happened to me, like, a lot. And more rum sounded good, but y'know, minors. And I thought, if I don't go to the cashier..." He groaned. It had felt like such a brilliant idea at that point.

“Hm,“ she said and sounded a lot like his dad, “your own idea, then?“

He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged again. It hadn't been his plan originally, he didn't even remember whose, but _him_ being the one doing it? Nobody had forced him at gunpoint.

“So that's what you gonna tell your dad? _It kinda just happened_?“

"If he asks at all." Prom felt something burning in his chest, a sudden spark of anger. "I can hardly say 'at least now you _have_ to talk to me', because he doesn't." He waved the note. "He can just ground me 'til I'm thirty and he doesn't even have to _say it to my face_."

“Hm,“ she said and slurped some of her own noodles, “think legal age is still at eighteen. But I can imagine it's hard being under his command every day of your life. Just would never have thought him to be one to avoid conflict, but that's probably something else when you're only under his order and not under his wing.“

Another shrug. "Guess he _has_ to talk to you. Can't stay at home if he doesn't want to. He can totally stay at work until I'm out of sight, though."

“Some of us fucked up way worse than the little thing you did. Bet that includes him, from all I heard. Think he's just shocked his little angel made a mistake.“

"Angel." Prompto huffed. "I bet he's pissed that he can't just give me back."

“Huh? What's that shit about?“

He pressed his lips together, picked at his right sleeve. Even now, there were some things that simply were not talked about. What he could say was, "I'm a weird kind of adopted and there was a pretty damn long list of terms and conditions and 'no fucking up or else' was probably on there."

The Glaive stirred her noodles, deep in thought. Opened her mouth then. “Are you fucking dumb? Leonis would go through the hells and back for you, even more so than for old Reggie, if that's even possible, and here you sit and think such things? How come?“

"Really?" Prompto was starting to inadvertently add more salt to his soup. He wiped at his face. "Great that _you_ know that. Would be cool if he let _me_ know that."

“He's crap in _saying_ those things. Needs to be as drunk as you are now for them to come out, and he'd probably trying to be really _strong_ and _manly_ for you. _My dad, the hero_.“ She handed him her napkin.

"Thanks." He sniffed and tried to wipe the tears off, but they kept coming. "Sorry."

“Feel free. I'm no tattletale.“ A friendly punch against his arm.

So he cried, and he ate at least some, and eventually, she drove him home. Cor wasn't home yet, didn't come home for a few more hours. Prompto retreated to his room anyway. Things would probably go like this: Dad would come home and not communicate with him at all. After a few days - maybe a few more - he would go on as usual, and eventually his uncle would tell him that he was no longer grounded. His father's whole involvement would be nothing but that phone call and that note. It made him want to punch the wall.

He was quite on point with that, only his dad didn't come home for three more days, leaving him alone with an ever so slightly worried uncle.

Day three had Prompto finally punching the wall, literally, and screaming when he did it. He had stuck to the rules, come home from school directly, no dawdling, gone there first thing in the morning, no early run. And for what? His chest was tight with all the things he wanted to do and say, and nervous energy that had nowhere to go. He punched the wall again, and this time the scream was in pain, no anger. There was a small dent, and some blood. " _Fuck!_ "

“I'd rather not,“ came from the outside. Then, after a while, a shy “Fancy some tea?“

Ardyn had not exactly _avoided_ him, but he very much tried to avoid the bad mood that hung around the fledgling like an unhealthy miasma.

A few seconds passed, and then Ardyn could hear a defeated "yeah" from the room. The boy followed shortly after, trying not to make a mess with his split knuckles, and trying to keep them out of his uncle's sight. "Thanks. Just... gotta clean something up, first."

“You know where the kitchen is. Black, herbal or fruit?“ Ardyn was in his PJs,  golden eyes sleepy. He just had a rather pleasant nap when the noise woke him.

"Herbal would be great." Prompto went to the bathroom instead, let cold water run over his hand to get a better look, and when he found that it wasn't all that bad, pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink.

He came back to a humming, tea-brewing, toast-making Ardyn, a sudden onset of normality after days of nervous tension.

“I know what you did, you know, fledgling? The nice lady told me.“ He did not detail which one of the _nice ladies_.

His hand now bandaged up, Prom sat down at the kitchen table and let out a long, shaky sigh. He had no idea what to say, so he just shrugged.

“You are aware you did wrong, of course. Painfully so.“ A cup was placed in front of him.

"Yeah." He picked it up, just to have something to hold on to. "Thanks."

“We really need to start training. Can't have you caught in the act at such a simple maneuver.“ Ardyn's tone hadn't changed.

Prompto blinked. "Uh. It's not like I plan on doing that again."

“Right, right, but you will admit it very much is something that might be useful at some time?“ He beamed and served toast with butter and honey to accompany the tea.

"It's-- Well, I guess. I mean-- Yeah. Yeah, sure."

“And you never know when you need to get something discreetly, a jailer's key, let's say, or an important letter...“

The boy slowly nodded. He was starting to catch on. "You never know."

“And you will admit that done well it is not only an art and a craft, but also great fun. Done with best intentions, of course, and not for personal gain...“ That came as an afterthought, with Ardyn pacing excitedly, using his half-eaten slice of toast for more intense (and crumbly) gestures.

"You've already got me, no need for more advertisement."

His uncle seemed slightly disappointed at first, just having gotten in the swing of selling this _new and interesting hobby_ , but that vanished quickly as they started with their first lesson, as simple coin trick. Palming the shiny thing and letting it vanish like it never had been there at all.

While Prompto was not exactly a natural at the actual execution, he had a good eye for detail, and was quick enough to learn. By the time his concentration started to fade, he had the basics down. "I think I'm done for today."

"Also, it is not the worst way to make a child smile, or someone you have an eye on in a tavern. You look at them with your most innocent gaze..." Ardyn looked down on him, golden eyes full of purity, stretched out his hand and took something from behind his ear. Showed it to the boy. A silver coin, not the one they had used for training. It look worn, ancient, and Prom didn't recognize the writing on it. "And if they have been nice..."

That just confused Prompto. Not the gesture itself, but all that accompanied it, from the coin to the words. Then again, his uncle would sometimes say _things_ , and he just had to make sense of them somehow. Asking rarely helped.

For a few somehow tense moments, Ardyn waited, his gaze shifting between the coin and the fledgling. Letting it disappear into nothingness in the end. "Which you clearly haven't been. What shall we have for dinner?"

It was only now that Prom understood that something had disappeared from his uncle that had been there during the whole afternoon, something shining and strange like the coin. He had been _taller_ , somehow, even somehow... no, _cool_ wasn't the right word, but...

Whatever it was, it prolonged the confusion, and made him review what he had done in the past minute to curb Ardyn's enthusiasm. He could not think of anything, at least not anything he could by any means have avoided, sighed and shrugged. Nothing to be done about this, then. "Your pick."

“Let's cook, then. You will do the cutting. And the dishes.“ He smiled, back to his uncley self again. “Shall we continue tomorrow?“

"Yeah, that'd be good." It was something to do, and useful to boot. Something to take his mind off until his father decided to show his face.

And that they did, for one more day and another. Once his uncle asked him if he wanted to know where his father was spending his time.

"At work." Prompto shrugged. "Doing overtime like it's nobody's business. Right?"

Ardyn just looked at him. Said nothing, for once, and the boy noticed how he flinched under his tone. Just continued with their training then, not willing to talk about this to somebody that was close to _shouting_ by the simple mention of another person.

Either that, or crying. Prom took a deep breath, and handed the coins he had palmed back to Ardyn. "I need a break."

***

When Cor came home, days later, it was early afternoon. Not his usual time, and he went straight for the shower. Disappeared there for a long, long while.

Ardyn threw the fledgling a meaningful gaze and hid away the jacket they had been working with, Prompto trying to pick its pockets again and again.

He had fallen silent the second he had heard the key in the lock, followed his father with his gaze all the way to the bathroom door, thinking. A moment later, he retreated to his room, and came back out no longer dressed in a too large t-shirt and sweatpants, but a tank top and jeans, hair done up with enough product to make very clear that he was about to leave.

"Say, are you quite sure this is what you want to do?" His uncle had meandered into the kitchen. Others found knife and pointy things there to defend themselves, he found a full fridge.

"Either he says something, or he doesn't." Prompto shrugged. "So either he _talks_ to me, or I finally know that he doesn't give enough of a shit to go out of his way to say 'stop'. One way to find out."

"And if he does say something, it will mean war, because you are by all means old enough to make your own decisions, and when he was your age--?" Ardyn sounding _reasonable_ was a rare thing.

"I'd rather have a war than this." Prom tried to keep his voice down, and it had him end up hissing, just short of whispered yelling. "I have no idea what to do with this. I don't even know what this _is_."

Again, his uncle flinched. He had done that quite a lot the last days. Usually he would have just left, hidden in his room until the anger in the fledgling's voice was gone, but these times, he had stayed. Tried to ignore it, to continue their training.

"What would you do if you were in his boots?"

"Shout. Ask why. Not fuck off for more than a week."

"And what would you answer if I ask that?"

They hadn't heard the door open. His dad stood there, a towel around his waist and his arms crossed over his chest, a fresh wound in his side mostly hidden by a bandage.

"That maybe I was hoping for exactly _that_ ." Prompto didn't turn around to look, he just stopped whispering. The awkwardness of his changing voice had almost passed, but right now, it still pitched up and cracked against his will at every other word. "You yelling at me and telling me what a disappointment and failure I am, because that'd be _something_. _Anything_."

"When have I ever yelled at you, Prompto Leonis?"

"That one time, when he almost killed himself with..."

"Thank you very much, Ardyn, but that was about ten years ago and, as you said, he almost died that day because he ran into a busy road without looking. You didn't do that this time. Yes, I've been angry. Wondering what I did wrong to make you think that kind of behavior was okay. Doesn't make it okay to yell at you though."

"You didn't do anything." The boy was back to mumbling. "I was drunk and an idiot and thought it'd look cool, and maybe I'd get a rise out of you, 'cause it's _hard_ to get that in, like, any direction. It's--" He shrugged. "I don't know."

“And what shall I tell you that you don't already know? It would have been a different thing if it was a source of pride or born out of necessity, and I'm happy it was not.“ Still so very fucking calm.

"I don't know. I mean, how? If I knew you wouldn't have to tell me, that's kind of the point. Like, did you know that the Glaive who took me home knew more about what you think of me than I did?"

A sharp intake of air behind him. “So what do you expect me to do? Write little messages during the day, asking what you're doing and if you wanna come to _chill_?“

Ardyn had started to busy himself with the contents of the fridge, but still hadn't tried to flee. This seemed too important.

"You're good at writing messages already. I guess _telling_ me that I'm grounded was too much to ask. Guess you'd have had to _look_ at me for that, and I might have _seen_ that you--" Prompto had turned around for the last sentence, and his words caught at the sight of the bandaged wound.

“I didn't see how you would profit of me being angry about failing you. In the end, it was my mistake that gave you the idea.“ Standing upright, spine straight, feet slightly apart. _I have failed my mission to protect you, my little king._

"Your--? What?" The confusion was palpable, and for a moment Prom just stood there and tried to make sense of what his father had just said. He gave up on it, and along with it the whole argument, with a sigh. "Are you okay?"

"I would like some cake." Ardyn answered in Cor's stead. He had seen how something behind those winter blue eyes had drawn back into the shell it usually lived in when Cor was around others. "Applestreusel would be nice. And you're good for the outside anyway, right? Hair done and all."

The cue was too familiar for Prompto to miss it. "Yeah, sure." He just walked away, leaving the grown-ups be for the usual thirty to forty minutes that a trip to the bakery never would have taken had it only been about cake.

***

His uncle was on the couch when the boy came back, and the TV running. His father nowhere to be seen.

"I have made tea." Ardyn announced. "Come sit with me?"

Prompto turned to look, and found that Cor's shoes were still there. "Sure." He left the cake next to the tea, and sat down, eyes towards the screen, not quite registering what was on.

His uncle reached for the cake. Tried a few forks full. "Is that what you expected?" No trace of reproach in his voice.

"Kinda, but... not really."

"Do you really think he does not care, fledgling?"

"I don't." The boy sighed. "It just sucks to get shit for needing to _hear_ it."

"Hm." Another fork of cake, and a sip of tea. "I do not think you _got shit_ , from all I witnessed. Was it the impression you got?"

"Kinda. Oh, you're bummed about hearing it from a stranger? 'Do you want me to write little messages?'"

" _Am I not doing enough so you notice it when we see every day? What have I done so you don't trust me?_ " Ardyn pulled his legs up on the couch, held his cup with both hands. "I understand it is hard to see the tiny things if the world is so full of very big things, and the way Cor goes at it it's so teeny-tiny sometimes you have to know where to look."

"This is so not about you not doing enough." Prompto leaned to the side and against his uncle to make that point. "I know you care. _You_ tell me all the time." He sighed again. "And-- and I know dad does, too, it's just-- yeah, it's hard, but-- Is it me? I mean-- Is it really so ridiculous to want it to be _less_ hard?"

"I need to work on imitating his voice, I see." A little giggle, and an arm around the fledgling's shoulders. "I don't know what happened to your dad when he was younger, but-- he just can't. Cannot bring himself to say it. Maybe he considers himself _too manly_ , but I very much doubt that is the root of the problem."

Prom was silent for a while. "Maybe he _really_ got shit for needing to hear it."

"He never told me about his parents, you know, fledgling? Not even when I asked him, and the way he _didn't answer_ kept me from asking again."

Another moment of silence passed before he hugged Ardyn, and then ducked away under his arm to get up and knock on his father's door.

It took a moment or two before it was opened. His dad in a shirt and boxers, somehow managing to look _disheveled_ , difficult as that was. "Prom?"

Prompto got on his toes to get him around the shoulders for the hug that followed, mindful of the injury. "I love you. I'm sorry." Maybe his father couldn't, but he could.


	19. Alien

Life was good, and so was the popcorn. This was the second bowl Noctis and Prompto were going through, and the third horror movie they had finished that night. Prom set the snack aside. “You pick the next one.”

Noct’s choice was something about a monster on a spaceship. A classic, the info text assured them, and ‘classic’ with old movies usually meant hilariously dated. It wasn’t. Instead, it caused an odd tension in Prompto from the setup, when the crew emerged from the tanks they had been frozen in. He wrote it off as the film being fantastic with its suspense, maybe something they had done with the light. Noct still looked relaxed, though. Either he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care, but yes, there was definitely something about the light that made the ship’s corridors dim and oppressive, made Prom's mouth go dry. He looked at Noct again - paying attention, enough to see that he was actually watching, and enough to not want to ruin it for him.

Over the next minutes, it became clearer and clearer that the monster wasn’t going to be some guy in a stupid mask, picking off the cast one by one without ever being seen. There was only a gurgling noise for the first crewman, a choked scream and a pan to the floor for the doctor. When it came for the girl with the machine gun, and the first and only sign was black ooze dripping slowly from the ceiling and onto her shoulder, Prompto started to reel. The couch was tipping away under him, and he just couldn’t  _ breathe  _ deeply enough.

Sometimes, he still woke up from nightmares to something very much like this, found himself drenched in cold sweat, absolutely petrified. Usually, this lasted only a few seconds, until he got his bearings and understood that he was awake. Only now, he had already been awake when it started, and it was building up instead of wearing off. Closing his eyes didn’t help. He could still hear the sound from the speakers, the her screams turning shriller and then dying. Now he could smell it, disinfectant and burnt plastic and rotten flesh. This had nothing to do with that movie anymore.

“Noct.”

“Mrhm?” As good an answer as one could expect with a mouth full with popcorn.

“Turn it off,” Prom choked out.

The screen froze. Turned black. “Prom?” Sudden panic in Noct’s voice, and he clapped on the gentle yellow glow of the lamp next to the TV.

The color of Prompto's face was only a few shades away from the wall, and he was sweating, eyes still tightly shut. When Noct had looked at him the last time, he had been half sprawled over the couch, now he was mostly curled up against the backrest, shaking. “Th- thanks.”

“Hey, hey, Prom!” He was on all fours, crawling over to be close to him. “You okay?”

Instead of replying, he reached out towards Noct, found his shoulder, and then unfolded only to hold on and  _ cling _ to him as if his life depended on it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Two arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The prince didn't understand what was  _ happening _ , but for once, her understood perfectly what was  _ needed _ , and so he just sat and held and waited and didn’t care for the wetness and the snot that were soaking his shirt. Eventually, the tears stopped, and the shaking, and his friend's breath evened out. He still seemed reluctant to let go. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Noct didn’t, even if a part of it might have been for selfish reasons. “Happens, I guess?”

“Yeah.” Prompto tried to unclench his fists from Noct’s shirt, but couldn’t do it. Couldn’t even really lift his head from his shoulder. “I guess.”

A few moments passed, then, “Noct? I uh… I kinda need to talk to you.”

“I need to let go for that, yeah?”

“I really don't want to… but I’d also really like to do that in a well lit room that isn't… here.”

“Kitchen? Kitchen is good, right?”

“Yeah, kitchen is great.”

“And I don’t even need to let you go for it, wanna bet? Hold on tight.”

Prompto did. “Wait. You're not gonna--”

They logistics of getting up from a couch with a boy in his arms weren’t as simple as the prince had thought and involved quite some turning and groaning, trying to stand once and falling back into the pillows. Managing then, even though his steps were shaky. It always looked so easy when Gladio did it.

Even with him still jittery and out of sorts, Prom couldn’t help the giggle. “So this is what it’s like to be rescued by a prince…”

“Only white chocobo I have is a bit small--” He groaned a little and tried to balance himself. It was true, though. Bawk the chocobo, one of his trusted childhood friends, by now only reached his knee - and was made out of plush.

“Awww.” A deep inhale and the face against his shoulder nuzzling a bit closer, and then a sighed exhale. “C’mon, put me down before you pull a muscle.”

“Never gonna let you down…” Breathless and between to steps.

“Did you really just--?” More giggling, and then Prompto finally had the presence to hook his legs around Noct’s hips to make the process a little easier. “I know you won’t, though.”

As the lights flickered on in the kitchen, they were briefly reminded that they should probably do some basic cleaning up, or at least push some of the chaos into piles to avoid at least some of Iggy’s sighs. The place was a mess. Earlier in the day, they had tried to cook. Failed. Ordered out. Packaging and used pans still were right where they left them, but for now, Noct found other things more important. He settled down on one of the chairs, his BFF still in his arms.

“Thank you.” Prompto lifted his head just enough to make it easier to understand him, still unwilling to let go. “So, uh… Talking. There’s something I… kind of wanna do, and there’s something you should probably know before that.” Prom bit his lip and sighed. “Just shove me off if…“

“Hm?” A little affectionate nudge of the black-feathered head.

“Remember when I told you I was adopted? It's… a bit weirder than that.”

“You got a sixth toe on your left foot you never told me about?”

Prom snorted. “Dude, you've seen my feet a million times. It’s... uh. Dad didn’t exactly get me from an orphanage. It was… more like a lab he rescued us from. Me and Ardyn. And uh… I was a… a bit of an experiment. So I can’t guarantee that I’m… like… um.” He swallowed. “One-hundred percent human.”

Noct took a little to compile that information, or at least to try to do it. Shrugged, then. “I know. You’re at least twenty percent chocobo, and Ardyn is an ancient evil that lives exclusively off sugar. Doesn’t change who you are, now does it?”

He could feel Prompto relax against him. “No, not a bit. Just thought you should know before you decide if you wanna go with this…” ‘This’ being a butterfly light kiss on Noct’s neck, and a second on his jaw when he lifted his head to come face to face, to maybe make it a third.

An excited little gasp escaped his lips all on its own, danced over lips that were suddenly so strange and new. Was caught between the two boys then and got lost between new little sighs.


	20. Back Home

“Hello.”

That word had needed a whole while of staring and desperately trying to suppress the fight-or-flight-reflex. “Is Ardyn here, too?”

He wasn’t as huge as in Cor's memory, even though he still was ridiculously tall, and ridiculously  _ surreal _ , even in his casual shirt, the long white hair still open, hanging in silky strands over grey fabric. He hadn't expected  _ him  _ of all people casually sitting in his kitchen, drinking tea out of one of his mugs.

“Hello,” echoed Gilgamesh. If it hadn't been for Cor's prior knowledge of his relationship to Ardyn and the missing arm, it would have been difficult to recognize him at all. There really had been a face under the mask after all, even if it wasn't all that much more expressive. After a moment he said, “Ardyn went out to buy cake. He insisted.”

“Want a drink?” _ Because I need one. Asap. _ Arms behind his back, standing at ease.

“I am already invading your home. It used to be rude to decline under those circumstances.” There was an apology in there and a question - is it still?

“You aren't the worst my boys have dragged in. Straight?” He was wandering over to the kitchen cabinet where he kept the liquor and reached for a bottle of the good whisky, a single malt from Niflheim, bottled one king ago.

Gil hummed and nodded. “I suppose so. And yes, please.”

Cor poured, and Cor served. Sat down next to the tall guy, two stone-faced men at the bar of a nice family restaurant.

“So…” A long break. “How is it going?”  _ So, you and Ardyn... no. Sorry about your arm... hells no. _ He held his drink up, a silent offer to clink glasses.

Another long silence after their glasses touched, then, “I am getting... accustomed to the world as it is.”

“Hrm,” Cor said. Added “Busy,“ then.  _ And horribly complicated, even if you've grown up in it. _

“Insomnia - yes. Loud, too.” As an afterthought, “The air is better than I expected.”

“Used to be worse, back when old Mors was on the throne. His son is kind of a--”  _ No, don't say hippie _ . “An outdoors man, even if he doesn't have time for it these days.”

“Good on him,” Gil said. “His son seems to share this interest.”

“He likes fishing. Would probably forego the throne to live in a hut close to the sea, given the chance. Was it in the family? Ardyn these days finds everything that's more  _ wild  _ than a nice park with a duck pond pretty offensive.”

“He used to be a rider.” Something between nostalgia and pain crossed his face, just for a brief moment. He drank.

“He was? Heh.” Not a really chuckle, but the picture of Ardyn in a saddle brought a smile into Cor's eyes. “There's a chocobo stable not too far from town. Offers riding lessons for beginners and city folk. In case you wanna make a daytrip.”

“Thank you. Although I suppose it would have to be on a good day, considering.”

“How is he doing? He's never been... away from home for so long.”  _ Especially not alone. _

“He has changed, and he hasn't, so it's... still a little difficult to tell.  I would say fairly well, for his new measure of well.”

“And you cope? I mean, he's in a way better place now than when we met, but if I imagine what he must have been…”

“Thank you for asking.” The ghost of a smile. “I was there when it began. I had two millennia to come to terms with the idea that he would never be the same.”

“Don't think two millenia would be enough for me.” A big gulp and a glance to the side.  _ Hasn't been for you, either. _

Gilgamesh nodded, and for a while, that was it. Just when it looked like he wasn't going to reply, he said, “He was always good at keeping up appearances, even when the signs were already so clearly pointing at the things to come. We both knew betrayal was only a matter of time, but I think we - both of us - only realized the extent of it, or the shape it would take, when they came for Hyperion first.”

“Hyperion?” That name was new.

“Beautiful black bird. His favourite.” He sighed. “You know you have a witch hunt on your hands when there is a trial and public execution for a chocobo.”

“The fuck? That's just like…”  _ I don't even know. Executing the Regalia. _

“The sickness was taking its toll, enough to seep into the light when he was upset enough.” Gil looked to the side, at Cor. He probably knew a thing or two about that after all those years. “They needed him to lose control where everyone would see, but they could not go after anyone who could speak. Not then.”

“Shit.” The word was heartfelt, and Cor emptied his glass in one big gulp.

“I tell you  _ this  _ because even now I lack the words for all that followed,” Gilgamesh said before he did the same.

Their glasses were refilled.

“Shit,” Cor repeated after a while. The word condensed his thoughts into four letters, and he very much preferred that. It was met with another nod, and then silence.  _ I can't even imagine how it is to be in your shoes. And yet... _

“Think I would have done the same if it was my King. Probably including the cave.” It felt strange to admit that. “You let me know when there's something you need, okay?”

“You have become a good man, Cor,” Gil replied after a while, “and you care for him. You and the boy give him stability. Family. That is already more than I could ever ask.”

“Thanks. Still.” A short smile. “Really.”

“Thank you. Actually there are some... practical concerns.”

Amber liquid was poured and a heavy breath taken. “I'm listening.”

“It shouldn't take long. Ardyn just tends to go off on tangents, and his attempt to explain contemporary household appliances to me did not end with me understanding any of them.”

“Heh. That... should be doable.”

***

When Ardyn came home, it was hands full of paper bags filled with cake. He was late, he knew he was, but decisions were difficult and a part of him wanted to avoid the unavoidable. At least this part of it. They'd surely get along well, be all strong and silent together and Cor wouldn't be angry with him because he had been gone for weeks and--

What should he tell him? That he felt  _ young _ again in Gil's presence? That he needed every ounce of strength he could get for what he had planned? That he had needed some time to catch up with an old friend and an old self that was forgotten?

For a long breath, Ardyn stood in front of the door to his  _ home  _ and tried to smile. It would all be well in the end.

It had to.

He turned the knob and entered.

There was laughter from the kitchen.  _ Laughter _ , and Gil's voice saying, “That makes it quite a lot easier than it used to be.” It quietened down for a moment. They had probably heard the door. “Ardyn?”

“Honeys, I'm home!” he declared. Smiled.  _ This had worked out way better than he hoped for. _


	21. A Bad Day

Only three voice messages on his phone. Small blessings. More than eighty e-mails to sift through for the ones that still needed a reply tonight. Fifteen reports, eleven requests, nineteen memos of low importance, but high urgency that had found their way to his office in paper form, not all of them today. Most of these things had already been on his desk the day before, and the day before that, mostly because Ignis was doing now what he had done most of the day before, and the day before that.

Nothing.

He was sitting at his desk with the best intentions to work through the pile, but so far, he had not come further than flipping his laptop open. That had been an hour ago.

His coffee was cold by now. He couldn't get himself to drink it, not only because of the weird gurgling noise it had been causing in his stomach for a few days now, but because it just didn't taste like anything at all anymore.

A knock on the door. Not too many people would try to come to his office at this time of night - they had something like a private life. He had heard of the concept. His attempts to straighten himself out at least a little were only partially successful. Still.

"Come in."

"Hey. Still at large?" Gladio could be soft and silent, but for some reason he only seemed to save that for his friend. "Got some fried rice as a late snack. Wanna share?"

Ignis' stomach churned at the mere idea of that much fat, and he shook his head. "I'm not particularly hungry. Thank you."

He was still staring at screen, as if there were any answers to be found if he just kept on doing it long and hard enough.

"Eaten anything today? Was a bit worried after you canceled lunch. Again." He squatted down at Iggy's side, looking up to him like a big worried dog.

It probably said something about him that Ignis had to think about that question first. He sighed. "I have, and I'm sorry. Traffic, this time. I did not message you?"

"Not a problem. Really." A gentle punch against his friend's knee. "Are you okay?"

***

04:59, the alarm clock spelled out, red lights in the dark, and Ignis was already sitting upright. When the numbers changed to 05:00, he pressed the button before it could even make a sound. This was the pleasant part of the morning. The routine was so ingrained that he did not have to think, just push his body to go through the motions of making coffee, taking a shower, getting dressed.

When his apartment door closed behind him, the clock said 05:42, 05:47 when he started his car. 06:03 when the his phone rang for the first time.

"His Highness is unwell, but refuses to see a doctor." The voice on the other end sounded as tired as Ignis felt. They went through this dance ever so often. Noct's health acting up, him being angry with his body and the world in general and trying to power through it. Failing. Crashing. They had learned to see the early signs and act accordingly, but it still started with the prince refusing that there was a problem at all.

Ignis suppressed a sigh. A doctor probably wouldn't be needed, but Noct would not see reason until he was there, and he would not take any medication until he saw reason. "Thank you. Please let his Highness know that I will be there in ten minutes."

When he arrived, making his way through a part of the city that was only just beginning to wake from the nightly slumber, he was welcomed by one of the prince's servants. The prince had called on him around midnight to entertain him because he couldn't sleep. "Nightmares again. He keeps dozing off and waking in a cold sweat. I just pretend it is nothing and pause the damn video game while he's out."

"Thank you. And please do not hesitate to call earlier if this should come up again." Ignis meant it, even though he was grateful for the short night of uninterrupted sleep he'd had. The earlier he knew about these things, the better, and the less Noctis would have to wake up other people, or deal with personnel who considered his ill health - or perhaps just his taste in video games - a nuisance.

A short nod, and the knowledge his words were appreciated, but would never be taken in. Those who worked this close to his Highness never did, even if they used those extra hours to take a whole day off now and then.

Noct was lounging on his couch, controller in hand, and barely able to keep his eyes open. Shirt and boxers and a blanket, his own personal royal attire, and black rings under his eyes a panda would be proud of. "Hey Iggy," he mumbled.

"Hey." Ignis sat with him. His voice was softer with Noct on days like this, it happened all by itself. He brought the back of his hand up, gently holding it to his neck, then his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

A slight fever, and cold sweat. Very much known problems, but then, if it was anything out of the order, he _would_ have been called earlier. On Noct's personal scale, this probably still counted as fine. Ignis had a similar scale in mind, only that it adjusted for the boy's sheer stubbornness. "Any pain?" He was already adjusting their schedules in the back of his head. No school today for Noctis, three o'clock canceled. His own morning appointments would have to be rearranged, as well.

Instead of answering, the boy just dropped to the side, his head landing in his confidant's lap. Rolled up like a tired kitten and was gone within moment, controller still in hand. This was slightly out of the norm.

Ignis sighed, carefully removed the controller and set it aside. All appointments for the day canceled, then. If this was how Noct finally got some sleep, all the better. In a way, Gladio was right when he complained about the prince staying up late to play video games and being too tired to function the next day, he was just lacking the context of most of these occurrences.

It was around ten when Noct's eyes opened again. The prince mumbled a "sorry" and dropped from the couch to the ground. "Shower? Am late for...?"

"School," Ignis said automatically. "You are already excused from your morning classes," he added, softer. "And yes, shower first. We will see how you feel afterwards."

"Meeting with... those charity folks, right?" Getting up was a slow process, awkwardly dragging himself up on the table, finally standing on shaky legs. "Training then and..."

"Noct. Take your time, take that shower." He didn't ask if Noct was sure about this, or if he wanted to perhaps lie down again, even if that would have been the best choice for today. Too stubborn. Ignis would simply keep an eye on him and ward off tasks that were too taxing as they went along. "We can discuss your schedule over breakfast."

"'kay. Cool." He managed the way to the bathroom himself, feetering like a freshly born fawn. Left the door open. That was a thing Ignis had introduced and Noct soon accepted. Being in iffy places was not that bad when the door was open.

Ignis waited a moment for any unusual sounds before he disappeared into the kitchen. He still kept the radio off while he prepared breakfast, to make sure he would notice if Noct fell over, after all. He knew from unfortunate experience that the matching _thud_ was audible through the wall.

The shower took longer than usual, even though no body hit the tiles. As Ignis went to look, he found his prince sitting in the tub, head resting on his knees, the warm water streaming over his skin. It happened often enough for them to have some kind of routine. Noct's hair was already wet, and it was pretty clear that reaching up that high was a little beyond his abilities for the moment, so Ignis rolled up his sleeves to keep them dry while he washed it for him. Everything else could wait until he felt up to it.

When he was done, he eased Noct out of the bathtub and sat him down on the edge, wrapped into a large towel. "Can you take it from here?"

“Sure,“ the boy mumbled. “Think I can have a piece of toast or something? Stomach is being weird again...“

"Of course."

Some tea to go along with the toast, and the breakfast already prepared boxed up, in case Noct's stomach settled down and he could eat something more substantial later. Ignis had just done that when his phone rang again. Unknown caller. He frowned and took it, and after not even two seconds hung up again. The man on the other end of the line wanted an interview, exclusive, implicitly asking Ignis to unpack whatever dirt that person thought he had on the royal household. He knew this without even listening to him because that had been his spiel for the last two weeks, and he had become increasingly shameless about his methods of getting in touch. He wasn't the first one to try that, or the worst one, and Ignis hoped that things wouldn't _escalate_ again into him drawing daggers just to make clear that neither touching nor threats were even remotely acceptable.

It was Ignis' job to keep concerns like this _away_ from the prince so he could concentrate on more urgent matters.

Like filling him in on the reports that he had likely been too tired to read, the outline of the charity event in the evening, and getting him there in a presentable state. So none of it showed when Noct sat at the table with him, sparse breakfast with a discreet side of his stomach medication and a mild painkiller, and he walked him through the plans for this day, as slowly and as often as needed, and ended on, "I would also suggest not attending your afternoon classes in favour of PT, today."

"Can Prom come over later?" A slight shimmer of hope in his eyes.

"We can make time, if he is free to do so." More appointment juggling, but seeing Prompto was good for him and things were hard enough already. "It would have to be right after _his_ afternoon classes, which would give you a little under two and a half hours before you need to prepare for the gala." There was a migraine coming on. Ignis could see the telltale lights in the periphery of his vision. No problem, he would be good to drive for another thirty to forty minutes. Right on schedule.

The prince's face fell. He had forgotten about the gala, Remembered there was _something_ in the evening, but not how much smiles and suits it entailed. "Will there be dancing?"

"No dancing. You are expected to thank a handful of beneficiaries for their presence and the doctors for their work. Five short encounters, in total. I'm afraid you will have to memorise their names, if at all possible. The rest of the event only requires your presence in some form."

"Got it." Another careful bite of toast. "Iggy?"

"Yes?"

"You don't look so hot either."

Ignis shook his head. "It's quite alright. Nothing that cannot be remedied with a solid breakfast."

"Ebony with Ebony you mean?" Noct pulled a face as his stomach rumbled at the thought of coffee.

"Well..." No use denying it. "I will admit this is the usual fare, but I was thinking of something more substantial for a change."

"But you don't wanna  have it now, right? Because... because there's something I wanna talk about with you, before I ask Dad."

"Don't worry about it." Breakfast was a relative term, anyway. It was already well past noon. Lunch with Gladio was in... oh. Well, nothing to be done about that, he would have to apologise later. "What is it?"

"We... I mean I, because it was kinda my idea, but..." Judging by Noct's face, this was going to be something horrible. "There's a really nice lake not far from here, and I thought we could, like, go there. And camp. And go fishing."

On the one hand, this was soothingly mundane and harmless. On the other hand, it involved both the prince and the king, and was therefore a logistic nightmare. Still, it was long due, and if they wanted this to happen before summer was over, planning would have to start now. A month ago, really, but he could not hold that against Noct. "A short vacation surely would not be amiss."

"And it would be you and Gladio and Prom and me, and we'd have BBQ and no one else to care for, and..." His eyes glazed over. "Just a few days, you know?"

Quality time, but not with his father, then. This was easier to plan, and usually, the idea would have struck a note - these were people he honestly enjoyed spending his time with when he wasn't under pressure - but right now, all he could see were the numbers. Days on an agenda, numbers of people to call to make it happen. Minutes he could still drive safely before he would have to call a taxi and delay them even further. "You run it by His Majesty, and I'll see what I can do. We need to leave in a few minutes."

"Cool." The rest of the toast was tossed aside. "Iggy? You sure you're okay?"

"It has been a rather busy week so far, but I am sure things will calm down soon. They usually do." It wasn't that he was _trying_ to evade the question. The idea that this was not the reply Noct had been looking for only crossed his mind moments later, and only vaguely. By then, he had already gotten up from the table.

Ignis had meant to move on after dropping Noctis off for his appointment, but for the next two hours, the car remained where he had parked it. Everything between his charge leaving and himself lying down across the backseat was a little blurry. He had tried to intercept the migraine with the matching medication, and only remembered what kind of hell it was on an empty stomach when he found himself retching over a gutter in the back of the parking lot. A stupid oversight that - between the nausea, the splitting headache, and the time he needed to spend to make himself somewhat functional again - cost him half the afternoon.

Lunch was so late it was almost dinner, light so it would stay where it belonged, quick, and quickly followed by something to keep his head and stomach in check. If they were to spend a significant (over ninety minutes) amount of time together today, Ignis had to pick up both Noctis (out of the studio at 1550) _and_ Prompto (school finished at 1630, traffic dense, add ten minutes) which meant that the interviews he had planned for (two potential new attendants to fill in for one pregnant, one retiring) would have to be rescheduled (no mornings, no Tuesdays).

Five missed calls. Unknown caller. Two messages from Gladio. Later.

He picked up Noct. He picked up Prom. He left them to their homework (Tenebraen essay due Wednesday) and their free time (ninety-two minutes total), and went to lay out the prince's outfit for the night (cutting down his preparation time to thirty minutes).

With His Highness presentable and Prompto ready to go home, he still had three minutes to spare to get himself in order. A handful of water to his face, a glass of it downed with another pill, finally a chance to at least superficially brush his teeth after the parking lot disaster. Presentable enough, as far as he could tell, and it was getting hard to tell.

Only three more hours.

Technically, Ignis place tonight was at the prince's table, but he rarely sat down. For every hand Noctis was meant to shake later, he had to shake three now, explaining rules of engagement to the functionaries themselves or their assistants.

Nobody had _fun_ at these things. That was not what they were supposed to be for. He could see the royal family doing their best to be _social_ , but also noticed that the king tonight seemed in a even worse place than his son, sometimes gripping Clarus' arm for support. His Shield was whispering with him, probably joking about particularly unloved guests in a try to cheer Regis up, but didn't manage to bring out more than a half-hearted smile.

"Doesn't look too well, does he?" a voice next to Ignis said, "Heard that things with him are getting worse. Almost canceled the reception tonight."

It took him a moment to place the man. _Him. Just great._

"I think," Ignis said, standing up a little straighter, but not even turning to look at him, "that I made it abundantly clear that I have _no comment_."

“I'm just thinking aloud. So a confidant of the palace has _no comment_ and a stern face. That is not worrying at all. Ah, look, he's waving.“

And indeed, Regis was, a raised hand and a wide smile

That was what the king did at these functions. Smile, wave, be present, condone whatever charitable deed was done. Ignis had nothing to say about that, every word would get twisted anyway, and he didn't currently have the faculties to turn the table. What he needed to do was to keep this particularly unloved guest away from both Noctis and ideally his father, too. What he _wanted_ to do was get away himself. Maybe both could be arranged.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, and stepped away from the conversation towards Regis and Clarus.

“See you later, then!“ he heard in his back, while a smiling king placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, you saved yourself.“

“Scientia won't make for a good damsel in distress anyway.“ Clarus grinned. “Too many knives on him at all times.“

“And probably only too willing to teach me about proper etiquette in my old age.“

"I would not dream of it." Ignis inclined his head, shorthand for a bow in a clearly informal conversation. "And this particular member of the press has been... rather forward in his approach lately. May I suggest that Your Majesty sit with the prince for the remainder of the event?" Meaning that Clarus would be near both of them, implying that Ignis couldn't completely rule out that this guy might get physical to get closer.

“What do you think, Clarus, shall we go and say Hello to the particular _member_?“ The king chuckled.

“Make sure it doesn't dare to raise its head anymore unless it's allowed?“

“Life must be hard with such a _swollen_ ego when it leads to annoying our Ignis here.“ A friendly hand patted Scientia's shoulder.

"I am almost certain that when it comes down to it, he is an _upstanding_ example of a citizen. I assume it's just a hard night." It helped that they shared his opinion on the matter. Not quite enough to make his smile look anything but tired, but it helped.

“Shall I show him the door, Iggy? Or hasn't he done anything to warrant that yet?“ Clarus was always more than willing to do him such favors.

All they would get out of that would be another thinkpiece about the Citadel's alleged abuse of power. Ignis closed his eyes for a few heartbeats, took a deep breath, and said, "No, not yet."

“Then we shall go and make sure to drive him out _my_ way, don't you think?“ Regis _beamed_. He rarely got the chance to thoroughly annoy someone through sheer pleasantness.

Of course, Regis could do as he wished. Ignis simply couldn't tell anymore if this was a good or a bad idea. All he wished for was someone to keep an eye on Noctis while he... did something that was still within his capacity tonight. Paperwork, maybe. Another small bow. "Your Majesty."

"How about, Reggie, if we show him some father-and-son-bonding while we're at it? Noct looks too tired to do anything against it." Clarus' clear eyes were on Ignis as he asked he old friend.

The relief in that moment was strong enough to translate into his shoulders sagging before he could do anything about it. Even the king must have seen it, because he readily agreed, and didn't waste much time in following Clarus' suggestion. It would have been right to inform Noctis of this turn of events in person, but that would have meant walking through the crowd again, and... he was done with this day. _Six_ , he was done.

***

 _I'm fine._ The words lingered on Ignis' tongue and went sour there. He stared at the spot where Gladio's fist had bumped into his leg, and it crossed his mind that he had never learned how to answer this question honestly. "It-- has been a long day, that is all."

“No shit. Like you ever had anything else.“

A shake of his head. "Longer than usual." The glasses came off, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Or perhaps they just... start feeling longer."

"I understand you can't leave him alone." _And neither can I._ Gladio's hand on his leg again, soft and warm this time, trying to lend some strength.

Ignis' own hand closed around Gladio's, fingers cold as ice from sitting motionless at his desk for so long, trying to think and getting nowhere. "And even if I could, I would not want to, but..." Even without adding anything more, that last word felt like treason.

"You love him, but you are only human and not a bottomless well of all he wants and needs."

"Noct _is_ trying to not use me as such, but it's hard to abandon life long habits. He is unwell and under a lot of pressure." A pause follow by a huffed laugh, dry and humourless. "So am I, I suppose. The blind leading the blind."

"It will only get worse as time goes on, and the boy won't grow as he needs to if we keep on pampering him like that. Can you imagine him on the throne?" A little growl. "I sound like he's our fucking son and he should finally move out of the house, mh?"

"He's a teenager, Gladio." So were they, at least for a few more months. "He cannot ascend for at least another four years, and if we succeed he won't for quite a while longer than that." Ignis sighed. "He'll step up in time. You know that as well as I do."

"I know you won't be there to witness it if you carry on like this, and I know you don't want me to do the job alone. What was it you said? _Protein shakes and cup noodles won't raise a king?_ The first few words came out tinged with anger, but quickly changed into a melancholy beyond his age.

"I would have been willing to compromise on the protein shakes this morning." The attempt at lightening the mood fell as flat as his voice. Ignis held on to Gladio's hand a little tighter.

“Ignis. I _can't_ continue to just stand by and just watch you do this to yourself. I _can't_. We need to change this, for your sake, and for Noct's sake.“ Brown eyes looked at him pleadingly.

For a moment, there was silence, and in that silence, an almost imperceptible nod. A moment later Ignis asked, "Would you mind giving me a lift home? I don't think I can drive."

"Mind if I stay the night?"

"Please do." He let go of Gladio to get up, only to lose most of the colour in his face once he was upright. Instead of the other's hand, his fingers were now clutching the edge of his desk.

All of a sudden, warmth was around him, taking away the need to withstand gravity.

His friend had tackled him, catching him in his arms before Ignis' knees could give way, sparing him the shameful drop. No need to fight, or to hurry, just let the dizziness wash over and pass. Gladio could take his weight, no doubt carry him back if need be. To stay this way and let him was tempting.

For once, Ignis just gave in.


End file.
